Harry Potter and the Wizards of Narhassa
by Mharvey
Summary: Three months after Voldemort’s resurrection, random muggles evolve strange magic potential. Is he behind it, or is it something more sinister? Join the old gang as they dodge curses, hexes, life-threatening situations, and a new foe: hormones. Enjoy!
1. 6 Privet Drive

A/N: Would just like to thank all those who reviewed this story on Schnoogle, at FictionAlley.com! You guys inspired me to keep writing and posting my work. I hope you all like this story here as well! Please read and review, it's how I get my kicks after work. If you hate the story or are bored with it, please tell me why. While I love good reviews, I only learn from bad ones.  
  
Chapter 1: 6 Privet Drive.  
  
It was a dreary, miserable day at the Dursley's - Well, when isn't it a miserable day here, thought Harry as he listlessly watched the rain tap against his bedroom window and run down the pane. The annoying squealing of Dudley and his best friends shot through the walls and ran down the raven- haired boy's spine like electricity. Adjusting his glasses and sitting back on the floor, against his bed, Harry puffed out his cheeks and, for the eighth time today, reached under his bed and retrieved a small stash of letters. Each of them had become worn and wrinkled, as Harry made it a daily practice to read his letters over and over again. The first one - it was always on top - was from his best friend in the world, Ron Weasley. Just touching the soft parchment of Ron's letter made him feel as though he were back in his dormitory in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - albeit it was a short while.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
Happy Birthday Harry! Sorry I haven't been able to write sooner, but George and Fred have me working like a dog for them this summer, oh that's right, I didn't tell you! Fred and George all of a sudden got all this money. They won't say who its from though; I wouldn't put it past them to hire a hit-wizard to shake down Ludo Bagman for the money he owned them though.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Harry trailed off there with a slight smirk, yet at the cost of a pang of nostalgia. Whenever he thought of the prize money he had given to Fred and George for their joke shop, he was inadvertently minded of Cedric Diggory, slain by Voldemort nearly three months ago to date.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
  
Anyway, Fred and George are making all these plans, investing half the money into these Gringotts Bank trust funds Bill was telling them about. It's goblin stuff, all complex, basically they're supposed to invest a lot of money into stuff, oh heck, I don't know. It gives me brain pain just thinking about it. Anyway, hope you liked the present. Hopefully, Dumbledore will come around and let you stay here with us. If not, though, I'll try to mail you some food every now and then. I know the Dursleys do their best to starve you.  
  
  
  
  
  
Ron  
  
  
  
P.S. Percy took Mr. Crouch's job, as Head of the Department of International Magic Cooperation. Don't ask me what manner of creature he slept with to get that one. I don't want to know.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
  
Harry also wondered how Percy Weasley had been able to land such a prestigious position after serving the Ministry for no more than a year. With a careful hand, he placed the letter under the pile and read the next one.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
Happy Birthday! I hope that everything is going good for you, despite recent events. I'm always hoping for the best and I know Dumbledore is keeping a close eye on you. He's a good man, that Dumbledore, and he won't let you fall into harm's way. I sent you some food, since I know the Dursleys do their best to starve you.  
  
Your Friend, Hagrid  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Still not feeling hungry enough to touch some of the gray, rock hard cookies that Hagrid had sent, he had put them under his bed for an emergency. Carefully putting Hagrid's letter under Ron's letter, he moved onto the next one. This was his newest letter, for he had just received it a week ago. Hermione had surprised Harry with an earlier letter, telling him that she would be spending a week in America. Her parents insisted that she go to Disneyland, in California, USA.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
Hope you had as Happy of a Birthday as the Dursley's would allow. I am having a great time in the United States! I was pleasantly surprised to learn that not every single American boy carries a gun or listens to rap music. It's amazing how much fun people in America have (though, granted, I've only been to amusement parks all day) I did not think it was possible to have this much fun outside of a library! My father and I have gone on this ride called Space Mountain about five times. It's this roller coaster (had to explain that one to Ron. Took about four letters before he finally got the gist of it) that you cannot see anything on. It was wicked!  
  
It's strange that the wizarding world hardly even exists over here. I guess most Americans are either too lazy to become Wizards, or they move up to Canada. In fact, there is only one American Witchcraft and Wizardry School. It is called Castagloria and it is based in the middle of the Great Plains, with nothing but hayfields around for miles! I actually did meet a group of wizards at Universal Studies, however. You want to know something else that is really strange? They are all coming to Hogwarts next semester! I guess it must be some kind of Castagloria - Hogwarts exchange program. I wonder if this was Percy's idea. Did Ron tell you about his promotion? Anyway, I'm digressing from the topic. One of their names is Sean Camaradi; he is the coolest guy you can possibly meet. You'll get to meet him. He looks like Ron only he is as shy as a church mouse and about a foot shorter. Anyway, best of wishes. I've included some American food that doesn't go bad, since I know the Dursleys do their best to starve you.  
  
Love, Hermione  
  
P.S. Sean doesn't know who Harry Potter is. You'll like him.  
  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Harry had already eaten the food Hermione had sent him; some of the finest beef jerky she could get her hands on. The strange meat almost seemed magical, for he could not bite into it without breaking his tooth. He did like it, however, for he had always had a soft spot for spicy foods. With a sigh, he put Hermione's letter underneath Hagrid's. He was a bit upset that Sirius had missed his birthday, yet he also understood how busy he was, working with Dumbledore on whatever clandestine assignment he had given him.  
  
It was also strange that Hermione met a wizard who claimed to be coming to Hogwarts this fall in America. She spoke of him like she would be speaking of someone who was as old as they were, but perhaps he was reading too much into her words. He was probably just some First Year she thought was adorable or something. It was all but unheard of for Hogwarts to accept a student older than a first year.  
  
Harry's slight reverie was destroyed by a trollish, chortling sound.  
  
"I WIN, I WIN!" came Dudley's obnoxious, ear-piercing squeal from the next room over. Dudley was now marveling over his newest toy; some sort of game console called X-Box that had come out right around the same time that Harry was swimming underneath the lake at Hogwarts, dodging grindylows and rescuing Ron. Harry wondered how long it would be before Dudley threw it out the window.  
  
"ONLY BECAUSE YOU UNPLUGGED MY CONTROLLER, YOU GIT!" cried one of Dudley's friends named Max, a boy who looked something like the offspring of Neville Longbottom and a Blast-Ended Skrewt.  
  
Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass sounded from Dudley's room, followed by a loud smash upon the sidewalk of 4 Privet Drive.  
  
Well, that answers that, thought Harry with a smug expression.  
  
Harry sighed and decided that he'd go for a walk. The wind and the rain would serve as better company than Dudley and gang, for without a video game to help them stay big-boned, they would find the next best entertainment around.  
  
Harry bashing.  
  
Harry clambered down the stairs of the Dursley's two-story house and reached into the closet by the door. With a dissatisfied grunt, he threw on a raincoat that Uncle Vernon had been nice enough to give him. It was navy blue with about six different holes in it. It used to be Dudley's when he was six, yet it fit Harry's skinny frame rather well now.  
  
"Hey Harry!" came the whine from upstairs as he heard the door to his room opening. "Want to play Wrestlemani - eh? Where'd he go?"  
  
With a smirk, Harry closed the front door behind him. He knew it would be a warm day in Professor Snape's dungeon before Dudley would come after him in this rainstorm.  
  
Harry's footfalls echoed off the house as he felt the rain bringing some semblance of order to the untamable mat on top of his head. With a yawn perpetrated by boredom as well as fatigue, Harry walked to the end of the driveway and turned down the street. It was another seventy-two days, sixteen hours and fifty-four minutes, according to his digital watch, before he would return to Platform 9 and 3/4s. Looking up into the gray sky, Harry almost wished he could speed up time.  
  
Not until 7th year, sighed Harry dejectedly as he paced down Privet Drive.  
  
His disdainful boredom was broken however by an interesting sight. The house next door to the Dursley's, 6 Privet Drive, had a sign upon the front lawn with a bold word in red paint.  
  
SOLD.  
  
That's strange, thought Harry. I didn't even know it was for sale.  
  
A small van was parked in front of the house, with three people dressed in ponchos, working tirelessly to bring some standard looking furniture into the house. Apparently, standing out in the middle of the sidewalk, wearing a half-torn raincoat was not the most clandestine of actions, for one of the people looked up to see Harry and waved.  
  
"Alright there!" shouted one of the most beautiful voices Harry had ever heard, and between Veela's and mermaids, he had heard some rather lovely choruses. The figure, still blurred in the rain, made her way over to Harry.  
  
Harry raised his hand, a bit coyly. "Alright," he greeted, pushing a wet bang out of his eyes.  
  
The girl approached him and removed her hood. "Hey, do you live around here?"  
  
Harry's jaw dropped. Before him, with a fair face and long, golden tresses that seemed untouched by the rain around them, was a face intriguing enough to match her melodious voice. She looked to be about his age, or perhaps one year younger. Her face was all but pristine, with the exception of a slight splotch of freckles about her prominent nose, no doubt an aftereffect of an active outdoor life.  
  
Harry had to admit, he was relatively taken aback by what he considered to be her beauty.  
  
"Yeah - well, no - well, sorta," replied Harry smoothly; scratching the back of his head so furiously, he was afraid he'd start a fire. "I live here, but I go to boarding school."  
  
The girl smiled radiantly at him. "During the summer?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, no, um - I mean during the school year, I go to boarding school, that's why, I wind up living here, now -" Harry felt as though he had eaten one of Fred Weasley's Ton-Tongue Toffees. "My name's Harry," he said, quickly changing the topic.  
  
"Jessica," replied the girl, her smile seeming only to brighten at Harry's staggering words. "What school do you go to?"  
  
"Er," began Harry, trying to dig his toe into the sidewalk. "St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys."  
  
If she took Harry serious for a moment, this was hidden phenomenally well by an energetic laugh so lovely, it made Harry's cheeks burn.  
  
"Right, sure," she said. "No really, what school do you go to?"  
  
Harry began to feel a bit more at ease talking to Jessica. He never liked lying, however, he feared that if his uncle ever found out that he had said the word "Hogwarts" within a mile radius of his house, he'd loose what little food they fed him.  
  
"Fleetmore Academy," lied Harry, drawing a name up from out of the blue.  
  
Jessica shrugged, but her smile did not diminish. "I haven't heard of it. Hey listen, you want to come in? It's kind of wet out here."  
  
The rain had increased to a downpour, making conversation very difficult over the din of tapping and splattering.  
  
"Yeah, that'd be wicked," said Harry, perhaps sounding a bit too enthusiastic.  
  
Jessica smiled and grabbed Harry's arm, pulling him along through her driveway. The other two figures had closed the van for now, apparently not wishing to compete with the rainstorm.  
  
"Mom, Dad," said Jessica. "This is Harry, he lives next door!"  
  
The two figures turned around. It was obvious where Jessica got her looks from her mother's side, as she seemed nearly identical to her in every way, shape and form. Her father was a round-faced man with a thick, brown mustache.  
  
"Hello there, Harry," he said, extending his hand. "Charles Rennings."  
  
"A pleasure," replied Harry, shaking the man's hand. The man's expression turned a bit stony, however.  
  
"Was that your game console that flew out the window and nearly killed my wife?"  
  
Harry felt completely and utterly mortified, yet could not help but nearly laugh out loud.  
  
"No," he said with a twitch at the corner of his mouth, showing his emotional restraint. "That was my cousin, Dudley. He gets a wee bit temperamental at times."  
  
Jessica's mother smiled brightly, making him wonder who was better looking.  
  
"My husband exaggerates. I had a full three seconds to get out of the way."  
  
At that, Harry could not hide a laugh of his own. Without much delay, Jessica and her parents made a quick dash for the house, the girl pulling Harry along with surprising strength.  
  
Immediately, Harry knew that Aunt Petunia would be giving her house a makeover after seeing the inside of 6 Privet Drive. The entire room seemed to be filled with antiques, giving it a very unique feel. For a split second, he was reminded of the Gryffindor Common Room, in both atmosphere and comfort-level. The door opened up into a living room, complete with several red cushioned chairs and a crackling fireplace. Lacy red curtains hung over the walls, trapping the warm air in the room. Almost at once, Harry noticed Jessica's mother rush over to the fireplace and flick a switch above it, turning it off.  
  
"Forgive us, Harry," she said awkwardly. "We had to -"  
  
Jessica filled in the slack quickly. "Burn out the cobwebs from the chimney. They give me such allergies."  
  
Indeed, the only time he had ever seen a fireplace lit during the summer was in The Burrow, when Mr. Diggory had made contact with Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley during breakfast by use of Floo Powder. It seemed like two strange coincidences that the room looked so ornate and the fireplace was so quick to be turned off.  
  
"I'll give you the tour," said Jessica energetically as she grabbed Harry's arm again and pulled him along like a new puppy.  
  
After receiving the tour of the house, Harry could still not believe how fancy the house was decorated. Every single room was clad out with expensive furnishing that would have been common in the 16th century.  
  
"My father is a dealer in antiques," Jessica was explaining. "What doesn't sell, he brings home."  
  
Harry nodded once, in understanding. "So, what school are you going to go to?" he asked, trying to make conversation with her as they entered the kitchen. Jessica sat down at the round table, with Harry quickly following suit.  
  
"Oh," she said, laughing bashfully. "I'm sure you wouldn't have heard of it."  
  
Now this is ironic, he thought. I don't think she could possibly have me beat here.  
  
"Try me," he said, leaning forward with a smile of his own.  
  
Jessica scratched the back of her head. "It's for exceptional people - geeks like me, you know,"  
  
Harry's emerald green eyes lit up mischievously. "Spill it."  
  
"It's called - eh -" trailed off Jessica faintly, before finally throwing it out. "Hogwarts School of - eh - the Gifted."  
  
The only thing that could have floored Harry more is if she had cast the Avada Kedavra curse upon him and there. This could not be possible, reasoned Harry. It was all but unheard of for Hogwarts to accept students older than first year, yet Hermione was telling him about a boy named Sean and his group attending, and now a girl named Jessica will be moving in? What was going on?  
  
After a moment of uneasy silence, Harry finally decided to speak.  
  
"So, you are a witch then?"  
  
Now, it was Jessica's turn to be floored. His eyes widened and her smile turned into a gaping flycatcher.  
  
"How do you -?" asked Jessica.  
  
Harry calmly withdrew his wand from under his shirt. Perhaps a bit of paranoia after his encounter with Barty Crouch had rubbed off on him, but after the Tri-Wizard Tournament, he never went anywhere without it.  
  
"Oh!" she said, excitedly. "You are a wizard!"  
  
"Harry Potter is my full name," said Harry, a bit unenthusiastically. He knew what was to come now - she would ask him to show her his lightning bolt scar, she would ask him for an autograph, she would ask him to turn around - she would ask about You-Know-Who,  
  
Jessica's expression didn't brighten or fall. "Well, truth be told, I'm not really a witch."  
  
This made Harry blink.  
  
"Eh?" he retorted with unusual eloquence.  
  
"Well, you see, I'm - I don't really cast spells. I don't even have a wand," said Jessica.  
  
Harry blinked yet again.  
  
"It's difficult to explain," said Jessica. "It started about three months ago, I don't know how. I could make things happen just by desiring it to be so."  
  
Harry leaned forward. "Well, yeah, that's magic - right?"  
  
Jessica blushed a bit and folded her hands awkwardly. "Yeah, but - just watch."  
  
Before Harry could stop her, every cupboard in the kitchen opened up and then closed just as quickly. Harry had taken his eyes off her briefly, but he knew she had not said even the slightest incantation or moved a muscle.  
  
"Blimey!" cried Harry, waving his hands in a show of restraint. "Don't do that! Underage wizards are not permitted to perform magic outside of a school! The Improper Use of Magic Office will be flooding you with owls!"  
  
Jessica shrugged slowly a smile creeping back on her face. "What they don't know can't hurt them, now can it?"  
  
"But they have ways of knowing!" continued Harry. He remembered all too well before his second year at Hogwarts when Dobby the House Elf had used a simple Hovering Charm on a pudding. The Ministry had blamed Harry about twelve seconds later and nearly got him expelled from Hogwarts.  
  
Jessica shook her head. "Not this kind of magic, I don't think," she said. "It's hard to explain - but, I've only been part of the wizarding world for these past few months. My mother has been a muggle all her life, as have I - yet we both developed these abilities. The Ministry hasn't contacted us once - the only correspondence we've had with the Wizarding World was an invitation in our home in Wales, asking me if I would like to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."  
  
Harry sat back in the chair, running his hand through his damp, disheveled hair. While his experiences concerning the Wizarding World were about as little as possible for a student going into his fifth year in Hogwarts, he had never heard of someone's abilities manifesting so late in life.  
  
"What else can you do?" asked Harry, now more intrigued than concerned.  
  
Harry almost instantly regretted asking as he felt himself grow lighter and lift into the air effortlessly, rising out of his chair against his will. He did not stop upon reaching a standing position, however, and floated clear off his feet.  
  
"Whoa!" cried Harry as his head bumped lightly into the ceiling. "What - what did you do?"  
  
Jessica smiled and blushed a bit. "I desired you to levitate."  
  
"But, you didn't even say Winguardium Leviosa!" snapped Harry, wincing as his head bumped up against the ceiling again, like a balloon.  
  
"God bless you?" asked Jessica with a dumb expression on her face. "Is that what you wizards actually say to make someone or something float?"  
  
Harry put his hands above his head to prevent bouncing against the ceiling again. "Yeah," he said slowly. "It's a spell - wizards are known to cast them."  
  
"I have no idea how you could possibly know that off the top of your head," said Jessica, with an impressed tone. "I have a hard enough time remembering phone numbers."  
  
Having had enough hang time, Harry decided to try his hand at some wandless magic, and, with a wave of his hand, he floated back down to the ground and landed back in his seat again, causing Jessica to smile.  
  
"If you are coming to Hogwarts, I think you are going to have to learn," he said sagely. "If you want, I can help you learn some magic."  
  
Jessica stood up, completely delighted. "That'd be great. I'd love to hang out with you some more. You seem like a really great guy."  
  
A thought that tasted to his brain like ambrosia to his tongue filled his mind. "I'm Harry Potter," he said, a second time, repeating his statement in case she didn't here.  
  
Jessica blinked and arched a brow at him. "I'm Jessica Rennings. I think we've gotten past this part, though."  
  
Harry felt completely liberated and euphoric. She doesn't know who Harry Potter is, GREAT!  
  
"Yeah - Yeah, I guess we have," affirmed Harry.  
  
Jessica smiled and winked at him. "Why don't I come over to your place at eight tonight?"  
  
Harry's expression turned from brilliant acceptance to panic. "No, no. Um, I'll come over here and bring some books."  
  
"Oh, come on," said Jessica with a playful whine. "I've not yet seen your home or met your family or your cousin."  
  
Harry bit his lip bashfully. "I know! That's a good thing, believe me."  
  
Jessica waved her hand. "Oh, don't be ridiculous - they can't be THAT bad."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"What horrible, horrible people!" she cried out indignantly.  
  
Jessica stormed out of 4 Privet Drive, that night, followed quickly by Harry, whose face was the approximate color of a plum. Harry raced after her as Uncle Vernon's voice followed them with an unerring tenacity that Filch might demonstrate if he were trying to chase Peeves away.  
  
"YOU BROUGHT ANOTHER ONE OF THEM INTO MY HOUSE! YOU WON'T BE EATING FOR A WEEK!"  
  
Harry blocked out his uncle's voice and followed after Jessica. "Wait, Jessica, I'm sorry! I tried to tell you earlier today. They hate magic and everything magical."  
  
Jessica's lip trembled in anger and confusion. "I just wanted to help Dudley repair his window. I felt sorry for the little porker!"  
  
At that, Harry chuckled, and Jessica could not keep a sour expression for very long. Before he knew it, Jessica was leaning upon him, laughing herself silly. Harry did the only thing he thought would be natural and put his arm around her.  
  
The rain had stopped and the clouds had lifted, showing off a bright, full moon. The landscape glistened silvery in the light as the moisture collected upon the blades of grass.  
  
"Let's go see a movie," said Jessica calmly, looking up into Harry's eyes.  
  
Harry blinked in shock for a moment. Come to think of it, he could not remember the last time he had seen a movie in a Muggle movie theatre.  
  
"How would we get there?" asked Harry curiously. "I have a broom, but I am not permitted to fly it."  
  
Jessica punched Harry playfully in his skinny chest. "It's called a car. Might be a new innovation to the wizarding world, but they are rumored to be able to get someone from point A to point B."  
  
Harry smiled and looked down into Jessica's azure blue eyes. "It rings a bell, only in the Wizard world, those fly too - sorta."  
  
Jessica smiled in slight jest. "My father can take us; I'm sure he'd be delighted to talk to you as well."  
  
Both walked back to her house; all the while, Jessica listened attentively while Harry explained his story involving Ron Weasley, a flying car and a Whomping Willow. 


	2. The Burrow

A/N: Would just like to thank all those who reviewed this story on Schnoogle, at FictionAlley.com! You guys inspired me to keep writing and posting my work. I hope you all like this story here as well! Please read and review, it's how I get my kicks after work. If you hate the story or are bored with it, please tell me why. While I love good reviews, I only learn from bad ones.  
  
Chapter 2: The Burrow  
  
KNOCK! KNOCK!  
  
Ron stretched lazily, reaching for the air above his bed in a vain attempt to push the sun back out of sight. His crystal blue eyes fluttered for a moment as a groan escaped his lips. Finally giving up, he rolled out of bed and crashed onto the floor with an unceremonious thud.  
  
KNOCK! KNOCK!  
  
"Rise and shine, prat!" called either Fred or George (Ron was not sure) from behind the door. "Busy day!"  
  
Ron lifted his head from the mahogany wood floor of his room, right under his Cannon's poster. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the Quiddich players in the picture pointing their fingers and laughing at him.  
  
"'o away," cried Ron, burying his eyes into his arm. "What 'ime is ieh?" he mumbled into the floor.  
  
The door to his room flew open as Fred and George both entered, fully dressed and grabbed their little brother by his arms.  
  
"It's day time," replied George coolly.  
  
"We've developed a new product and need a guinea pig," added Fred cheerily.  
  
Ron was powerless to fight as the twins stood him up upon his feet. The sun was only barely over the horizon, noticed Ron. It couldn't have been later than 6 AM.  
  
"Don't you guys ever sleep?" whined Ron as Fred held him upright while George rushed into his closet and began throwing some clean clothes out for him.  
  
George shook his head and grabbed a pair of Ron's boxer's between two fingers, flicking them over to him at arm's length.  
  
"Nah," said Fred. "We'll sleep enough when we die."  
  
Ron caught his fresh pair of boxers and lazily threw on one of the shirts that Fred had tossed out for him, a maroon turtleneck. "Great philosophy," he grumbled.  
  
Fred smirked while George began pushing Ron out of the room. Despite having laid out clothes for him, Ron had only gotten into half of them. Ron did not bother to remind the zealous twins that he was wearing nothing more than a turtleneck and a pair of boxers as he was led down the winding, uneven steps of the Burrow and into their bedroom  
  
They are beyond reach by now, sighed Ron as George and Fred sat him down in a chair between both of their desks, after he had been careful to step over a Potions kit.  
  
The twins' had turned their messy bedroom into a laboratory that would make Snape quite jealous. Dozens of tools Ron had never even heard of before let alone seen were scattered about the room with seemingly little order. Upon Fred's desk, Ron saw about a dozen green, bite-sized tablets. Without waiting, George grabbed a glass of clear liquid, dropped one of the tablets in, and thrust the cup into Ron's hands. The tablet hissed something awful as olive-green smoke filled the air above the beaker.  
  
"We call this Pinocchio's Booger," announced Fred proudly. "Drink. Now."  
  
Ron moaned. He considered making a mad dash for the door, however, each time he had tried it, George was always one step ahead of him. It was either comply, or be tied down and forced. Ron sniffed the contents of the flask and nearly wretched. It smelled something like heaps of garbage in a garage during the hottest day of summer. He shot a pleading look to George, who glowered fiercely at him, waving a galleon gold coin at him. Ron's eyes followed it with longing desire.  
  
"You want better dress robes for next year? You're gonna have to work for em."  
  
Images of the purple dress that his mother had picked out for him and Malfoy laughing at his selection gave him willpower above and beyond the norm. With a second moan of resignation, Ron closed his eyes and downed the potion. He quickly put his hand to his mouth to prevent it from coming back up and willed himself to keep it down.  
  
"Excellent," said Fred. "Now, tell me Ron. Do you like Hermione?"  
  
Ron arched a curious brow. "What do you mean?"  
  
"You know what we mean," snickered George. "Would you like to snog her in the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts and take pictures to remember the night?  
  
Ron performed a double take. He would NOT be having this conversation with Fred and George at 6:03 AM in the morning!  
  
"No!" he snapped doggedly.  
  
Suddenly, Ron's eyes went wide as he felt a tingling in his nose. Reaching up in horror, he found that his nose now extended six inches from his face. Fred and George gleamed in triumph.  
  
"What about Harry, would you like to snog him too?" laughed Fred wickedly.  
  
"NO!" screamed Ron, his blue eyes glaring with anger.  
  
Thankfully and to Ron's utter relief, it seemed that their little trick was working. His nose remained the same, at six inches longer; he just did not swing that way.  
  
"So tell us Ron, how long is it?" snickered George.  
  
Ron felt himself turning green. Do they have any shame whatsoever?  
  
"I'm not going to answering that!" shouted Ron, his voice cracking with the effort.  
  
Ron felt his nose beginning to twitch again, as it stuck clearly into his line of vision, nearly a foot from his face.  
  
Fred and George exchanged mischievous grins. "Apparently, you will."  
  
"Ok! Fine!" cried Ron as he grasped at his nose in vain. "Long!"  
  
He could feel his nose pushing against him in an attempt to expand. "Stop!" cried Ron, as he fought the loosing war.  
  
George snickered crossing his arms upon his chest. "Just speak truthfully,"  
  
"The truth will set you free," chided Fred.  
  
Ron whimpered, his nose nearly two feet out from his face now. "Size doesn't matter, it's how you use it!" he cried defensively. "No, wait!"  
  
He could feel his nose growing once again.  
  
"Alright," said Fred with a sly grin. "I think we can put the Pinocchio's Booger on the market,"  
  
George nodded, ducking under Ron's three-foot nose as he went to find himself a parchment and quill. "Quite so. Perhaps something to improve the taste, can we make it cherry flavored?"  
  
"Guys," whimpered Ron hollowly, his voice sounding as if it were spoken from the end of a long hollow tube. "Help."  
  
Fred nodded. "We can try, though it might upset the delicate balance of the spell, might have people loosing eyes as people's noses shoot out from their faces uncontrollably."  
  
"A small price to pay, my brother," said George. "A small price."  
  
Fred smeared some powder upon Ron's nose, and within moments, it retracted to normal size, drawing a breath of relief from him.  
  
"Ok, next up,"  
  
Ron groaned and resigned himself to a long morning. Yet, there was a knock on the door spelling out blissful interruption.  
  
"Ron, Fred, George!" cried the lofty voice of Percy through the wooden door. "Get out there and de-gnome the garden or something and stop with all the noise! SOME of us have work today!"  
  
Fred and George exchanged their patented mischievous grins. "Yes, o' wise sultan of International Foreign Relations," retorted George sarcastically.  
  
"Shall we iron your knickers while we are at it?" chipped in Fred.  
  
The only sound that retorted was Percy's indignant stomping down the steps. Ron turned his attention back to his two brothers to find that they were fumbling about in their desk drawers for something. Ron chanced a look over just as they found what they were looking for at the exact same time. Both slipped identical black rings with a dozen or so gray slashes running down the sides upon their third fingers.  
  
"What are those?" asked Ron.  
  
Fred looked at his ring like a father would a son. "This, my dear brother, is the result of an idea George and I formulated after watching Star Wars."  
  
"Star Wars?" asked Ron cluelessly.  
  
George sighed. "Just because you are a wizard doesn't mean you can't see Muggle movies. Some of them are actually pretty good!"  
  
"Boring," replied Ron lethargically. "I'd rather play Quiddich."  
  
"You will go see a Star Wars movie," said George dreamily, waving his hand in front of Ron.  
  
"I will go see a Star Wars movie," said Ron, without conscious awareness of the words coming out of his mouth. With a sudden blink, he realized what he just said. He gawked at George. "Blimey! What the hell was that? How'd you do that?"  
  
"Bang on!" exclaimed Fred. "The working title is a Jedi Mind Trick Ring, but we are afraid that we'll get sued, so we are trying to find something better."  
  
"Wow!" replied Ron, truly intrigued.  
  
"Unfortunately," sighed George, "In the movie, they actually could get the people to do what they wanted, however, if we found a way to do that, that would also be another guise for the Imperius Curse."  
  
Fred nodded. "Yeah, and that would put us in Azkaban for life. Not a good thing."  
  
"So all that really happens is that you say the words, nothing more," added George.  
  
"It is still wicked," said Ron, his eyes wide. "Can I have one?"  
  
Fred and George exchanged looks and for a split second, they looked like responsible parents, deciding if they should let their son have a bee-bee gun.  
  
"Sure," said Fred, reaching into the desk and tossing Ron a similar looking ring. "We need beta-testers for these products anyway."  
  
George nodded, and a smirk crossed his face. "Let's go have some fun with Percy."  
  
* * * * * *  
  
After making Percy say more embarrassing things than he had ever said in his life and Mrs. Weasley nearly kicking Fred and George out of the house along with Mr. Weasley, who could not stop laughing, breakfast ended with a noticeable tension in the air. So it was with relief that his mother handed him a letter that had just arrived with Hedwig, Harry's beautiful snowy white owl. With a smile, Ron strolled across the kitchen to the window and gave Hedwig a piece of bacon from his plate. The proud owl accepted it and nipped Ron's finger affectionately. He unrolled the parchment, and began to read it.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Dear Ron,  
  
Thanks for the birthday present. Those Turtle-Pace toffees Fred and George made would be great to slip to Malfoy before a Quiddich meet, not that I would need them though. Also, thank your parents for the offer to stay at The Burrow this summer; however, I've actually decided that I am going to stay at the Durselys for the next month or so.  
  
Upon reading that, Ron nearly dropped the letter. "Is he on drugs?" he asked himself rhetorically.  
  
I've met this awesome girl who moved next door. Picture Parvati Patel, only twice as good looking and not annoying at all..  
  
Ron sighed as his brows arched in consideration.  
  
"Wow,"  
  
Ron knew that Parvati was easily one of the best looking girls in Gryffindor, if not in the whole school, but her beauty did come at a cost. She was one of the louder and more annoying girls as well.  
  
Her name is Jessica, and we have been going on dates for the past month. I really like her a lot. And actually, that's sort of the problem. She has been having some rather strange dreams the past few months. I've told her about some of my dreams depicting Voldemort, (Ron winced visibly upon reading the word) and Jessica's dreams follow a very similar pattern of fear and pain.  
  
I don't know if you can answer this question, but perhaps Percy can. Does he know anything about The Wizards of Narhassa? She has mentioned them to me a few times in association with her dreams. Also, if you could, ask him if he knows anything about strange and sudden mutations in Muggles over the last few months.  
  
See you in Diagon Alley in a few weeks.  
  
Your best friend,  
  
Harry  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Ron lowered the parchment with a quizzical look upon his face. Without wasting any time thinking over Harry's request, he ran back into the kitchen. Percy had just polished his shoes and was about to Apparate to work.  
  
"Percy, wait," said Ron quickly.  
  
The young man with the black-rimmed glasses looked from his wand to Ron with an arrogant leer.  
  
"Make it fast," snapped Percy airily. "I am exceedingly late for a meeting."  
  
Ron sighed. It was unnerving how cold and aloof Percy had become, treating his family much like burdens in his life. Ron had not even spoken to Percy directly in many weeks, yet now, for the first time he wanted to talk, Percy was already shoving him away. He remembered another person who followed a distinctly similar pattern, according to Dumbledore and Harry: Bartleby Crouch, whose career and life had ended in total chaos after he put his job before his family.  
  
Coincidently, Percy now had Mr. Crouch's old job.  
  
"Harry wanted me to ask you if you knew anything about , um," Ron glanced back down at his letter.  
  
Percy rolled his eyes. "Make it snappy, will you?"  
  
Ron glanced up irritably, looking over the top of the parchment. "I bet you aren't even due in for another hour."  
  
Percy bit his lip, but said nothing. Ron could hardly believe that he was right. He looked back down to his paper.  
  
"The Wizards of Narhassa," read Ron from Harry's letter.  
  
Percy blinked slightly, his hot-winded anger becoming curiosity, "They ring a bell. Why?"  
  
Ron explained about Harry's girlfriend and her strange dreams.  
  
"Well," said Percy, lowering his wand and setting his briefcase back down to the ground. "There have been recent reports on the international fronts that wizards all over the world have been complaining about bad dreams. I do not have all the details at this time; this is what the meeting today is about. Is this girlfriend of Harry's muggle born?"  
  
Ron shrugged his shoulders weakly. "Harry didn't tell me."  
  
Percy nodded. For the first time in years, he seemed generally interested in what Ron had to say.  
  
"Write a response to Harry asking him if his girlfriend is one of the recent boons in the past four months," instructed Percy. "After this meeting of the Department heads today, I may have some answers."  
  
"Ok," said Ron with a nod. He turned around to make his way back to Hedwig to write Harry a response, but stopped. Glancing over his shoulders, he saw Percy watching him for a moment with an unreadable look. For the first time in years, Ron was reminded of the older brother who taught him how to swim in the quarry behind the Burrow when he was nine. He remembered the older brother who, before he become a Prefect in his fifth year and became unreachable, would always listen to Ron talk about his public schooling and any situation that came to mind. Now, Ron had turned fifteen, and Percy was going to be twenty soon. Percy just did not have any time for him now.  
  
"Thanks, Perce," said Ron, turning back around with a slightly pained expression.  
  
Percy nodded slowly. "Don't mention it."  
  
Ron quickly scrawled his response on the back of the paper Harry had sent him. Hedwig, modeling what perfect owl posts are all about, waited for Ron and extended her leg stoically for him to tie the note. When Ron finished, Hedwig took off with an affirming hoot.  
  
Just before he was able to catch his breath, however, he was yanked from behind by Fred and George and, before he could complain, was pushed up the stairs and into their room, again.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
"So, Harry," said Jessica, her always present smile upon her face. "Tell me what it's like at Hogwarts. I've never been to a witches and wizards school before."  
  
Harry was walking with Jessica through Faircounty Mall, a half-hour trip from Privet Drive. Strolling through the mall, hand and hand with this young witch was something so special for him. Such joy was never known in his entire life when not at Hogwarts, studying with Ron or Hermione, or playing Quiddich atop his broom. If all muggles could have this much fun without magic, reasoned Harry, they don't have it so bad at all.  
  
Harry chortled slightly as images flooded his head. "Where could I possibly begin?"  
  
Jessica giggled slightly with her high-pitched, yet extremely soft voice. "Why not begin where you did. What was your first night like? It might be useful information since, well, in two weeks time, we will be going back."  
  
With a glance into Jessica's kindly blue eyes, Harry began talking at length. He talked about his friend Hagrid and how he had taken him down Diagon Alley. It was amazing to him how vividly it all came back to him. While he knew he was walking with Jessica in some Muggle Mall, he could feel his sense of exhilaration and even doubt as he strolled through a throng of wizards for the first of many times in his life. He discussed the first time he met his arch nemesis Draco Malfoy while getting measured for his robes.  
  
"I almost thought he wasn't THAT bad at first; stuck-up, but not deplorable," admitted Harry, remembering their brief, but not bitter, encounter in the clothing store. "Though the Sorting Hat put him in Slytherin the second it made contact with his head."  
  
Jessica furrowed her brow and laughed out loud. "Ok, you've totally lost me there."  
  
Harry smiled and looked to Jessica with his kind, emerald eyes. The corners of his mouth twitched with amusement. "You'll see. Wouldn't want me to spoil the surprise now, would ya?"  
  
Jessica eyed him with mock (very mock) anger. "You wizards and your surprises."  
  
With a laugh and a bounce to his step, Harry and Jessica entered what appeared to be some kind of Muggle magic shop, for hearty entertainment.  
  
Harry returned home to 4 Privet Drive that night, floating on clouds. The feelings he were experiencing were so unique that he didn't even know how to label them. Part of him felt that high-speed anxiety that had been present whenever he gazed upon Cho Chang, his not-so secret crush at school. Yet, this was much more than a one-sided attraction. Only a handful of people in Harry's life had shown him true and equal friendship: Professor Lupin, who selflessly had sacrificed his Thursday nights during the second semester of Harry's Third Year in order to help him master his Patronus summoning, which had inadvertently saved the lives of Sirius Black, his godfather, and Hermione from a wall of unfeeling, parasitic dementors. Then, of course, there was Ron and Hermione, his friends to the end. Harry didn't even bother trying to list all the times they have been there for them.  
  
And finally, there was Sirius Black. An enigma in every sense of the word, he was still wanted by the Ministry of Magic as well as every Muggle authority for the murder of thirteen innocent people. Yet, it was not Sirius who had done this; it was an antimagus servant of Voldemort's by the name of Peter Pettigrew. Sirius had helped him through his fourth year by his ample correspondence and had come all the way to Hogsmeade, the town a stone's throw away from Hogwarts to try and keep him safe.  
  
Jessica seemed to be well on her way to becoming a fifth. Every spare moment he had, he watched T.V. over her house, talked with her non-stop and, when he was not with her, thought about her constantly. Granted, there wasn't much else to do when he was stuck in the Durselys' house, however, it made the time pass a little bit quicker.  
  
Harry's reverie was broken when he realized the door to 4 Privet Drive was shut and locked. It was now late at night and the Dursleys had already retired to bed. Should he knock, he wondered with half-seriousness if his uncle would call the police and have him thrown in jail from attempted robbery. With a sigh, Harry decided that it was not worth it. It was a beautiful night and it wouldn't be his first time sleeping out under the stars. On plenty occasions, the Durselys had kicked him outside for the night for little more reason than to amuse themselves.  
  
Besides, Harry was in too good of a mood to let a night outside rain on his parade. With a romantic sigh, Harry flopped onto the front lawn and rolled onto his back. He gazed up into the starry night sky, feeling a small sense of awe and wonder. It was 11:08 PM according to his watch, and Privet Drive was asleep. The sounds of crickets filled the air around him as he tried to loose himself into a calm sleep.  
  
Suddenly, however, a small shape crossed the moon and spiraled down from the heavens. It appeared to be small, like a bat, though it was carrying something. Harry's eyes widened as he realized that the small little creature was diving straight at him and hooting energetically. At the last second, Harry rolled out of the way as the owl crashed into the ground next to him with a soft thud. With a lethargic roll of his eyes, Harry glanced back down and picked up a small ball of feathers, who continued to hoot loudly.  
  
"Hello Pig," said Harry dryly. "A little late to be delivering messages, isn't it?"  
  
Ron's little owl shook in Harry's hand, nibbling on his thumb with tenacious affection. Harry adeptly removed the note that was attached to the small owl's leg. Desiring nothing more than to use a Lumos spell, but also desiring not to be expelled from Hogwarts, Harry made due by reading the paper as the moonlight reflected off of it.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
Percy and dad still don't have much in the way of answers. Tell Jessica that the Wizards of Narhassa were some kind of wizard order or something that vanished from the Earth nearly eight hundred years ago. What they do have, however, are the same sorts of questions you've been asking me. The reports of muggle mutations seem to be increasing and the Ministry is more than a bit concerned. Dad seems to think it might be a new stage in human evolution; magic might be the next step. Yet, Percy seems to be certain that this is the forerunner of the Apocalypse. You know Percy, he wouldn't mind the world blowing up as long as he knew about it in advance and could proudly gloat about it in hell. What Jessica is going though, according to them, appears to be common. Over several hundred Muggles worldwide have been reported as being able to cast spells without casting spells, thus making it impossible for the Ministry to monitor their usage. As to your question of whether or not this is connected to You-Know-Who, they can only guess, Though, I'll put in my two galleons. If it isn't connected to him, this is an awfully strange coincidence, isn't it? He rises from the dead, and suddenly, hundreds of muggles are able to control magic masterfully. Anyway, see you in Diagon Alley.  
  
Ron  
  
Harry lowered the paper. "Yeah," he thought in a whisper. "A very strange coincidence." With an unconscious move, Harry ran his index finger along the lightning bolt scar atop his forehead.  
  
Sighing, Harry withdrew a pen from his pocket, not having an eagle quill or bottle of ink to write the letter the Wizarding way.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Dear Ron,  
  
Thank Percy and your father for showing an interest in helping Jessica. I guess in time the questions will be answered; they always seem to be. Cheers.  
  
Your best friend, Harry  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Harry tied his reply to Pig's leg and with an energetic shutter and a surprisingly loud hoot, the small owl shot into the air like a rocket propelling itself to the moon. Within moments, the owl had blended into the night sky and faded from view.  
  
With another romantic's sigh, Harry folded his arms behind his head and resumed his bleary-eyed gaze at the stars above. 


	3. Diagon Alley Revisited

A/N: Would just like to thank all those who reviewed this story on Schnoogle, at FictionAlley.com! You guys inspired me to keep writing and posting my work. I hope you all like this story here as well! Please read and review, it's how I get my kicks after work. If you hate the story or are bored with it, please tell me why. While I love good reviews, I only learn from bad ones.  
  
Chapter 3: Diagon Alley Revisited.  
  
Three days later, Harry had said his good-byes to the Durselys (who all cheerily waved to him and made sure he hurried out the door by kicking him in the rear) and met Jessica and her parents next door. It was time to travel to Diagon Alley and purchase schoolbooks and resupply his Potions kit. With excitement only to be felt when traveling away from home for three seasons, Harry hugged Jessica as he arrived. They had agreed to go together, for Jessica and her family had no idea where they could find it.  
  
And so, after an hour-long car ride, they arrived in London and were dropped off at the Leaky Cauldron.  
  
"Do you have your book list?" asked Jessica's mother with concern.  
  
Jessica nodded. "It's only like two books," she said with a slight shrug. "Not that hard to remember: History of Magic V and Farley's Fabulous Guide to Strange Phenomena."  
  
Harry curiously turned to Jessica. "Only two books for you?" he asked.  
  
With a shrug, Jessica handed him the letter she had received from Professor McGonagall. Indeed, Harry saw only the two mentioned books upon the list. Harry, on the other hand, had five books to buy, one for each of his classes. One was History of Magic V, yet nowhere upon his list did Farley's book appear.  
  
"Have a good semester, pumpkin," said Charles Rennings, as he hugged his daughter closely.  
  
Jessica nodded. "I will, dad. You two take care!"  
  
She grabbed Harry's arm merrily, and the two proceeded into the Leaky Cauldron. The crowd within the inn seemed to be unbelievably large. While it had always been crowded a few days before the start of the Semester at Hogwarts, it had never been so packed that Harry had a hard time maneuvering through the mass of people. A line formed by the back wall, as people waited to enter the magical alley.  
  
"Wow," echoed Harry as the two thin bodies of him and Jessica squeezed through the crowd. "I wonder what's going on."  
  
Jessica seemed lost in elation and excitement, reminding Harry of the first time Hagrid had taken him through the Leaky Cauldron when he was 11. Only then, it was barely even crowded at all.  
  
"So, hey," asked a boy, looking to another boy in front of Harry. One was short with red hair and green eyes while the other was a tall, with fuzzy black hair and hazel eyes. The blacked haired boy was speaking. Each of the boys were heavily tanned, and wore sleeveless t-shirts and blue jeans, what Harry might expect to find someone wearing at a beach. The hazel-eyed boy had a golden chain around his neck that sparkled electrically in the torchlight of the Leaky Cauldron.  
  
"I hope they have some good CDs here. Ma's given me five hundred bucks to spend in this place. I still don't know how I am going to manage without my computer and my MP3s, though."  
  
The most distinctive feature about him was his American accent.  
  
The red-haired boy smiled coyly. "We'll see, Alex. Maybe they have wizard CD players and stuff, I just can't wait to meet that girl again."  
  
The line finally began to move forward as Harry and Jessica stoically waited behind the two gabbing American wizards. Yet, something about this conversation perked Harry's attention.  
  
"Yeah," said the fuzzy brown haired boy. "You've been talking about her enough. What was her name again?"  
  
The small red-haired boy rubbed the back of his head shyly. "Hermione."  
  
For some strange reason, this did not surprise Harry as much as he thought it would when he heard it. Somehow, he had known right off the bat that the boy in front of him was Sean Camaradi, the one Hermione had mentioned in her letter. He looked very much like a smaller version of Ron, with short, red hair and a shy disposition.  
  
"Hermione Granger?" asked Harry, surprised at his own boldness as the line slowly began to progress forward through the back wall.  
  
The red-haired boy and his comrade turned slowly around, regarding Harry with calculating and cautious expressions.  
  
"And you are?" asked the boy Sean had called Alex. Harry felt a chill run down his spine. That one is a future Slytherin, thought Harry with certainty.  
  
Harry extended his hand. "Harry Potter."  
  
The boy looked at his hand for a moment and finally shook it. "Guardings, Alex Guardings," replied the boy proudly, sticking out his chest. He was indeed a well-built kid that Harry would be afraid to have to confront without his wand. Alex's eyes wearily fell upon Jessica. "And you?"  
  
"Rennings," said Jessica stiffly, puffing out her chest and sucking air through her nose. "Jessica Rennings."  
  
The boy Harry took for as Sean bit his lip, hiding a laugh. Even Harry tried to cover up his smirk as Jessica impersonated Alex.  
  
"Sean Camaradi," said the red-haired boy kindly, shaking Harry's hand. "You must be that friend of Hermione's she did not stop talking about. Aren't you famous, or something?"  
  
Harry snickered slightly, shaking his head. "Not by choice, I assure you."  
  
It was finally their turn to step through the back wall to enter into Diagon Alley. Alex and Sean led the way, followed shortly by Harry and Jessica.  
  
The light of day shined down upon them as they stepped out into the alley; Harry smirked as he saw the vacant and mesmerized expressions of each of his companions. Yet, Harry had his own share of surprise, despite this being his fifth visit. The alley resembled a street during rush hour in London, completely packed with people of all sorts. While it was not unheard of to be crowded, the diminutive alley was simply overflowing with people of all sorts. While most wore Wizarding robes, many were dressed like his three companions, in muggle jeans and shirts. They seemed to travel in insecure little groups, all lost in marvel at the wonder as they read the signs and watched the people.  
  
Alex and Sean both turned to Harry after a moment of gawking.  
  
"Have - have you been here before?" asked Sean timidly.  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"First, you guys need money," said Harry, sounding much like Hagrid four years ago. "You guys have to exchange your American money into Galleons at Gringotts, the Goblin Bank."  
  
Alex, Sean and Jessica arched brows in his direction.  
  
"Goblin bank?" asked Alex, with a drawl that would have made him fast friends with Draco Malfoy. "What's next? Do I have to get a manicure at the Troll cave?"  
  
Sean snickered while Harry wrinkled his face a bit. No, I am definitely not going to like this one, decided Harry with a bit of disdain on his face.  
  
"Come on," said Harry, beckoning them to follow.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
After their trip to Gringotts, each of the companions were armed properly with purchasing power in Diagon Alley. The next step was to get measured for their robes. Harry decided that he had outgrown his old school robes and stood in line with the rest of his companions. They made their way through the horde of people and finally arrived at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.  
  
"Woah, woah, woah," said Alex, his face alight with a flustered anger. "No one ever said anything about me having to DRESS like THAT."  
  
Sean wore an intrigued expression on his face, while Jessica beat her eyes.  
  
"I think it'll be fun!" she exclaimed as they took their place in line.  
  
Harry noticed the boy Alex had pointed to walking out of the store. He was dressed in Hogwarts black attire and wore a Hufflepuff badge proudly upon his chest.  
  
"Oh hey, Justin," said Harry, waving to him.  
  
Justin Finch-Fletchley looked up at hearing his name called. "Alright there, Harry," he replied calmly. The fair-skinned boy with golden tresses made his way through the crowd over to Harry. "Can you get over all these muggles? It's like an invasion!"  
  
Alex eyed Justin coolly. "Yeah, we are just kicking ass and taking names now, aren't we?"  
  
Justin looked a bit intimidated by Alex's brawn as he swallowed a lump in his throat.  
  
"I meant no offense, I assure you," stammered the fifth year Hufflepuff boy. "Just observing,"  
  
Harry noticed Justin's shiny badge above his house patch and quickly found a way to change the subject. "Oh, I didn't know they made you Hufflepuff Prefect."  
  
"Oh," said Justin, taking his eyes off Alex and looking back to Sean. "Yeah, they announced it last week. Do you know who will be the Gryffindor's fifth year prefect?  
  
Harry shook his head. "I think Seamus Finnegan got the job. He's the most capable and has yet to loose a single point for the House."  
  
"Ah," said Justin, "Well, I have to go get my books. I'll see you at Hogwarts."  
  
Jessica had remained silent the entire time, yet now looked to Harry curiously as Justin pushed his way through the crowd. "A friend of yours?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "Oh, just someone I know."  
  
"Ah," replied Jessica with a curt nod as they progressed further. After about a half-hour of waiting, they were finally measured. Alex seemed not up for cooperating at all, and refused to wear his robe outside. Instead, he shamefully had thrown it into a bag. Sean and Jessica both seemed to think it was outrageously cool, as they strutted around proudly in their new, Hogwarts robes. Harry watched them with a bit of a smile. There was some sort of calm naivety about Sean that reminded him so much of himself. Not outspoken, yet very kind, he could see why Hermione liked him.  
  
"Time to get our books too," said Harry. "Come on, I'll show you guys."  
  
They had not even crossed the street, when a voice Harry recognized all too well echoed in his head.  
  
"Well, well, well, look who wastes no time coddling every single muggle who finds their jolly way into the Wizarding World?" cooed the sly and drawling voice of Draco Malfoy. Harry and his gang turned around to see the pallid boy with his arms crossed over his chest. The trollish form of Goyle and the apelike shape of Crabbe flanked him, grumbling and chortling unintelligibly. The two lackeys had a not-so cunning way of keeping people away, as people crushed into each other in an attempt to stay at arms reach.  
  
Harry eyed Draco coolly. "Don't you remember what happened the last time you spoke to me, Malfoy?"  
  
Draco's thinly stretched cheeks colored a mild shade of pink for a moment, but quickly resumed their usual indifference. It was clear that the curses Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred and George had hit them with on the train were still doing their job, clawing relentlessly at Malfoy's pride and ego.  
  
"Well," snorted Malfoy. "This time, all you have is three pathetic Muggles at your back. I wouldn't be feeling as confident if I were you."  
  
Alex strode ahead of Harry, glaring down at Malfoy. Apparently, he was not used to being spoken down to. "And just who do you think you are, girlfriend?"  
  
Goyle and Crabbe exchanged confused looks and scratched their heads, while Draco locked eyes with Alex fearlessly.  
  
"Muggle," he said, with an icy dagger in his words. "I suggest you get out of my face before something bad happens to you."  
  
Harry sighed and walked over to Alex, putting a restraining hand to his shoulder. "Forget him, ok? He just wants attention."  
  
Malfoy smirked at Harry, while Sean and Jessica hovered in back nervously. "That's right, Potter. Protect your Muggle from me. He'll need it."  
  
With an explosion of motion, Harry's hand was shrugged off Alex's shoulder. The large boy shoved Malfoy with a very surprising amount of force, sending him flying back five feet and skidding across the ground.  
  
"You want a piece of me, punk?" snapped Alex.  
  
A crowd quickly encircled the seven people, watching the fight with a good deal of interest.  
  
Goyle and Crabbe, wasting no time, made an awkward lunge for Alex. Alex, who was apparently much stronger than he was quick, succumbed to this assault, as Goyle kicked his legs out from under him and Crabbe pushed him to the ground. Malfoy watched with pink-faced temper as his cronies began to punch Alex on the ground.  
  
"Stop!" shouted Sean, rushing forward. His pathetically small form could do nothing, however, as he bounced off Goyle like he were running into a brick wall.  
  
Malfoy slowly rose to his feet while Harry watched in stunned silence. "Teach that Muggle a thing or two about respect," he said, dusting off his expensive, black robes.  
  
Without preamble, a familiar face appeared from the crowd, his wand in his hands. With three large gaits from the boy's long legs and a thrust, the wand was extended and held to Malfoy's temple.  
  
"Change of plans," said a very welcome person in Harry's eyes, as Ron Weasley locked his azure blue eyes upon Draco with utter hatred. "Call off your goons, or I'll try out a new hex I've been working on, very unpredictable,"  
  
Crabbe and Goyle stopped their relentless attack upon Alex, who had a bloody lip by now. Malfoy rolled his eyes over to Ron, a scowl of deep loathing on his face. "Wherever Potter is, there is always his little sidekick Weasley. It never fails, does it?"  
  
"Nope," replied Ron curtly, prodding Malfoy's temple harshly, causing him to wince. "It's called having a friend. You should try it sometime, Malfoy, though I don't think you'd have much to offer anyone besides money."  
  
Malfoy straightened his robes indignantly. "Crabbe, Goyle," he said coldly. "Play time with the Muggle is over."  
  
Harry watched Malfoy slowly back away from Ron, who continued to hold his wand at him unfailingly. Crabbe and Goyle got up off of Alex, who looked as murderous as Voldemort had at the end of the third task in the Tri-Wizard Tournament.  
  
"Watch your backs," said Malfoy angrily, as Goyle and Crabbe trudged back to his side. "There will be some interesting changes up at Hogwarts this year."  
  
Ron took another step toward Malfoy, his wand still held out at arm's length. "There will also be some interesting changes in your face if you say another word."  
  
His brain overtaking his pride, Malfoy turned about and faded through the encircling crowd, Crabbe and Goyle in tow behind him.  
  
"Who the heck was that terd?" asked Jessica as the crowd returned to their normal activities.  
  
Harry sighed. "Draco Malfoy. If the yearbook had a category, "Most likely to destroy the world if given the chance," he would win unanimously."  
  
"Yeah," snorted Ron, taking up one of Harry's flanks. "And if it also had "Most likely to die a virgin," he'd be in close competition with Neville Longbottom."  
  
Sean laughed while a smirk crossed Harry's face. With true feeling, Harry held out his hand to Ron.  
  
Ron grasped it with brotherly affection. "Alright then, Harry?"  
  
"Alright then," replied Harry, releasing Ron's hand. Harry quickly introduced Ron to Sean, Alex and Jessica. "We were just going to get our books. Care to join us?"  
  
Harry turned to his three companions. "Guys, this is my best friend Ron. Ron, this is Sean,"  
  
The smaller red-haired kid shook Ron's hand.  
  
"Alex," said Harry, pointing to the large boy, who was looking a bit battered. He simply nodded to Ron.  
  
"And this is Jessica," finished Harry, as Ron stared at her with wide-eyed asphyxiation.  
  
Ron shook Jessica's hand, (Harry winced as he saw drool forming at the corner of Ron's mouth.) "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Harry - has described you in detail."  
  
Upon seeing Ron, none-to-subtly roaming her body with his eyes, Jessica shot a curious glance over to Harry, who looked mortified.  
  
"Er," spluttered Ron. "I mean, told me a lot about you!"  
  
"Ah," said Jessica, putting on a fake smile and nodding. It was clear to Harry that she was rather amused.  
  
Without another word, Harry and Ron led the way to the bookstore. 


	4. Platform 9 and 34s and the Sorting Cerem...

A/N: Would just like to thank all those who reviewed this story on Schnoogle, at FictionAlley.com! You guys inspired me to keep writing and posting my work. I hope you all like this story here as well! Please read and review, it's how I get my kicks after work. If you hate the story or are bored with it, please tell me why. While I love good reviews, I only learn from bad ones.  
  
Chapter 4: Platform 9 and 3/4s and the Sorting Ceremony  
  
It was pure chaos and pandemonium as the five companions pushed their way through the train station the next day, their carts filled with luggage, cauldrons, spell books and screeching owls. Harry had recommended to each of the new students to purchase themselves an owl if they had the money. Jessica, Alex and Sean all complied readily, and between the five companions, has a small owlery. Sean's small screech owl, Ron's Pigwidgeon and Alex's large barn owl were raising the roof of the station, drawing confused glances from all of the Muggles around them. Hedwig seemed ruffled and hooted disdainfully at all the new owls, as if reprimanding them for making such racquet.  
  
Yet, as out of place as they would have seen normally, the train station was flooded with people pushing carts with some form of animal making sounds. Many of the people with spell books and owls were dressed as Muggles, looking to each other with utter confusion.  
  
As they proceeded through the station, they came to a "cart traffic jam," with about thirty confused teenagers standing stupidly on both Platform 9 and 10, reading their tickets. Some of their parents had surrounded as security guard,  
  
"Do show us where Platform 9 and 3/4s is please?"  
  
"Have you heard of this Platform 9 and 3/4s?"  
  
"Could you tell us where,"  
  
"I QUIT!" cried the security guard, dropping his badge to the ground and storming off. Harry recognized this man from his first year. When Harry had asked the man how to get onto the platform, he had reprimanded him for trying to prank him.  
  
Harry and Ron looked to each other knowingly, and smirked.  
  
"Harry, Ron, Sean!" cried a lovingly lofty voice from behind them, as the three boys turned around to see Hermione, who had abandoned her cart and was weaving her way toward them.  
  
She leapt into Harry's arms exuberantly, her wavy hair blowing in the breeze. "I've missed you guys so much!" she stated as she enveloped Ron in a similar hug.  
  
"Need, oxygen," groaned Ron as she squeezed him a bit too tightly.  
  
Hermione looked then to Sean, who was blushing a ripe shade of scarlet. "Alright there, Sean," she said, giving him a hug without nearly the same energy as she had given to Harry or Ron.  
  
"Um, hi," said Sean uneasily as he patted her back. "It - It's great to see you again, Hermione."  
  
Alex and Jessica introduced themselves to Hermione. They waited calmly for the lines to begin moving, however, all of their carts seemed to be locked together in the aftermath of confusion. It would have been difficult to walk toward the divider to board platform 9 and 3/4s, let alone push a cart onto it.  
  
"Oh, this will never work," said Harry with a shake of his head. "How can we all vanish and not look conspicuous?"  
  
Ron reached into his pocket and smirked professionally. "Leave that to me. Hermione, Harry, you two go explain to everyone how to get onto Platform 9 and 3/4s, and when I say go, have everyone cane it onto the train."  
  
Harry glanced down to his watch. "Hurry, we only have six minutes."  
  
"You aren't going to do anything foolish, are you?" asked Hermione in an accusing tone.  
  
Ron smiled and winked at her. "Hey, its me,"  
  
Hermione sighed. "That is not withstanding anything."  
  
Harry and Hermione finally made their way through the confused Muggles, explaining to them how to board the platform. Most scoffed in disbelief, however, shrugged and nodded. Harry looked to Ron, who nodded his head slowly.  
  
And suddenly, it happened. With a clandestine flick of his wrist, Ron produced a strange, grenade like device and lobbed it over his shoulders onto Platform 5. With an explosion of sound that forced Harry to grab his ears, the noise of machine gunfire, bombshells dropping and a trumpet calling a cavalry charge drew everyone attention and caused Muggles all around to dive for cover and sprint onto their trains.  
  
Without having to be prompted, every single Hogwarts student rushed into the stony looking divider between Platform 9 and 10, immerging onto Platform 9 and 3/4. While it was rather messy and more than one cart had overturned, most had been able to get out of sight during the distraction.  
  
"Ronald Weasley!" demanded Hermione when she came through, as she was the last to arrive. "This time you have gone too far!"  
  
Harry, Sean, Jessica, and even Alex were cracking up hysterically. Ron adjusted his collar proudly. "That is called 'George's Jumping Jubilee,'" he explained with a smirk. "He wanted me to beta-test it for him."  
  
"Looks like it passed," said Harry, trying to collect himself.  
  
Hermione, however, was furious. "You know that'll be on the front page of Wizard's Weekly, I can just see it now: Son and Brother to Two Department Heads at the Ministry of Magic seen Scaring Hundreds of Muggles with a Grenade!"  
  
"It was still hilarious," said Sean, blinking his shiny, green eyes innocently.  
  
Ron smugly put his arm around Hermione. "This is why we love this one. She is boring enough for the three of us, so we can have fun!"  
  
Jessica, between fits of laughter, put her hand upon Harry's shoulder to help her keep balance, though Harry was not much help, a chorus of chuckles echoing from his diaphragm.  
  
God, how much I've missed this over the summer, thought Harry to himself, for the first time in months, feeling utterly complete. While Jessica was a great reprieve from the usual summer boredom and loneliness, nothing made him feel whole again like Ron and Hermione.  
  
Hermione seemed on the verge of slapping Ron, yet at the last minute, broke into a fit of laughter.  
  
"Piss off!" Hermione said in between laughs.  
  
"Piss off right back!" returned Ron, who also nearly fell over laughing.  
  
The entire scene shifted from grave to comical in seconds, as Hermione and Ron were practically leaning on each other to prevent rolling upon the platform floor.  
  
"I, really despise you sometimes, Ron,"  
  
Ron put his arm around Hermione comfortably. "No, you love me and you know it."  
  
Hermione shrugged his arm off her shoulder with a grunt that would have made Crabbe proud.  
  
A moment later as the six companions were placing their luggage beneath the train, three more redheads stepped through the divider to join them. Fred Weasley and George Weasley looked as if they had each landed a night with a veela, and Ginny Weasley, Ron's young sister, could not stop giggling. The familiar red glow of the Hogwarts Expression train was a sight for sore eyes.  
  
"Did, you, set, that, off?" asked George, his smile brighter than a million suns. "The entire Muggle police force is combing the station for 'several unseen gunmen."  
  
Ron beamed proudly as Fred and George practically hoisted him upon their shoulders. Hermione, however, looked extremely stonily at Ron, putting her hands to her hips bossily.  
  
"You just earned your dress robes, kid!" cheered Fred.  
  
George ruffled Ron's hair. "See, I knew he wasn't going to turn into Percy!"  
  
They filed onto the train without wasting any more time. Harry, Ron and Hermione took the first empty booth. Alex, Sean and Jessica quickly followed, Sean sitting nervously next to Hermione, while Jessica sat close to Harry. The brown, fuzzy haired boy looked ruefully at Ron, and joined him.  
  
A moment later, a shocking face popped into their booth. For a moment, he thought it was Draco Malfoy, for the pale face and blonde hair nearly made him look like his twin. Yet, their was a noticeable difference in the styling of clothing, as well as in eye color.  
  
"Is there any room left in here for me?" asked the boy, with a voice so airy that it made Professor Trelawney's mystical cords sound like a tuba.  
  
Harry looked at his five companions and shrugged. "I suppose we have more room."  
  
"But of course you do," replied the boy, with a wave of a fine hand. "Let me introduce myself. 'I' am Bradley Trahvis, the son of Sir Malcolm Trahvis the XXI, Knight of His Majesties Royal Guard. I studied at Yarbark Elementary school and am eagerly looking forward to being enrolled in the program for gifted children in Hogwarts University as a Third Year student."  
  
The facial expression each one of Harry's companions wore reminded him of what they would look like if they bit into a Mucus Every-Flavor Bean.  
  
"Excuse me?" said Ron, making a show of cleaning out his ear with his pinky.  
  
The pale, proper boy looked unruffled. "What I said was, 'let me introduce myself. 'I' am Bradley,"  
  
"It was bad enough the first time around, do you have to repeat it?" inquired Alex viciously.  
  
It was Sean that broke the tension. "My name is Sean," he said, extending his hand.  
  
Bradley looked down on it dubiously, but made no effort to take it. He nodded his head instead. "Charmed. So, do any of you have relatives who bare the status of knight in His Majesties Royal Guard?"  
  
Harry sighed and contented himself to look out the window. This is going to be a long trip,  
  
* * * * * *  
  
There were a few more visits to their compartment, one from Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, which had served as a welcome reprieve from Bradley's bantering and boasting, and a second one from Colin and Dennis Creevey. Harry never thought he'd see the day where he'd welcome the sight of the goofy, mousy haired boy with his camera and his little brother in tow. Yet, compared to Bradley's boring stories of his studies at Yarbark, a few summer episodes of 'Meet the Creeveys' was a fascinating distraction. Colin was going into his fourth year while Dennis was just starting his second.  
  
"And that's why I have my own scar on my forehead," admitted Colin proudly, pushing some flicks of light brown hair off his forehead. Harry rolled his eyes slightly as he saw a slight, black mark above his left eyebrow. "See?"  
  
Alex fixed Colin with a completely condescending glare. "Wow, you are a real geek. You know that?"  
  
Colin looked at Alex with wide eyes astonishment, as though the thought could have never occurred to him.  
  
"Geez, what's your problem?" muttered Colin as he stood up to leave.  
  
Alex simpered slightly as Ron, Hermione and Harry eyed him wearily. Despite Harry sharing the exact same opinion of Colin as Alex, there was something so heartless about the way he voiced it that annoyed him. It was strange that him and Draco Malfoy did not get along, they seemed to have much in common. Knowing Ron and Hermione well enough, he knew that they shared his sentiment. Ron seemed on the verge of saying something in Colin's defense.  
  
Colin departed before Ron could get the words out, looking a bit hurt. Dennis followed after him quietly.  
  
Finally, the train began to slow down noticeably as the horn blew loudly.  
  
"It's time for us to get into our school robes," said Harry calmly, standing up and offering his hand to Jessica. Jessica smiled and accepted, pulling herself up. Sean rose eagerly and helped Hermione to her feet, drawing a bit of a callous look from Ron, who had moved to do the same thing. Harry smirked slightly at Sean's naivety as Ron gave him a bit of a sour look. Alex and Bradley both stood up.  
  
"I do hope they have proper air conditioning," said Bradley with his genie-like voice. "Without moist air, I tend to get nose bleeds something awful."  
  
Alex shook his head and blew hot air out of his mouth. "I think I speak for all of us when I say SHUT UP!"  
  
That was all Harry could stand. While Bradley was a prissy little rich boy who annoyed him to, he would not stand for Alex putting down everyone he thought was less dignified than him.  
  
"Alex," said Harry darkly. "We are going to have a real problem if you don't start treating people with some respect."  
  
Alex looked at Harry like he were an insect. "Don't overstep your boundaries, four-eyes. Remember, I'm a Muggle with crazy magical potential. You don't know what I'm capable of accidentally doing."  
  
It was Ron, however, who moved in. With a rough shove to Alex's shoulder, snapping the boy's hazel eyes upon him, Ron spoke coldly. "Are you threatening him?"  
  
"Watch yourself, carrot top," hissed the American boy. "I liked your style when you helped me with the Malfoy kid and I owe you a favor for that, but don't push me."  
  
Harry turned to Jessica, a severe look still in his eyes. "Why don't you go get your robe? I'll meet you outside."  
  
The lovely girl nodded once, and left the compartment.  
  
Ron maintained a cool glare at Alex for a minute or two, but eventually walked past him, shaking his head. Sean made a move to escort Hermione out, but the girl stopped in her tracks, pulling Sean back like a small puppy.  
  
"If you hurt any one of my friends, Alex," said Hermione, with such a chill that even Harry felt intimidated. "I swear I will bring you down."  
  
Alex narrowed his eyes, but found no swift retort to use against Hermione. Sean sighed and looked to Alex, a trace of panic in his voice. He released Hermione's arm. "Harry, Hermione," he said, playing the role of arbiter. "Can you two leave us alone for a minute?"  
  
Both Gryffindors nodded and, without another word to Sean, left the compartment and began to walk down the extremely crowded corridors of the train.  
  
"So Harry," replied Hermione, as they snaked through the corridor, nearly stepping over three Ravenclaw second years. "We haven't talked forever."  
  
Harry managed a smile despite the recent encounter. If he could deal with Voldemort, he could deal with some arrogant kid from America. "No, we haven't."  
  
"Tell me," said Hermione, with a bright smile as she pushed her wavy hair behind her neck. "Where did you meet her?"  
  
Harry looked back to Hermione. "Who, Jessica?"  
  
The bright eyed girl rolled her eyes. "No, Professor McGonagall,"  
  
Picking up on her sarcasm, Harry smiled and explained how he met Jessica, outside of her house the day she moved into 6 Privet Drive.  
  
"That's awesome," said Hermione, in a bit of a distant voice. "So, are you two formal?"  
  
Harry rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, as he usually did when he was uncomfortable. "I never really asked her. I'd imagine though, we've gone out on enough dates and all. What about you and Sean?"  
  
Hermione looked surprised. "Oh, no. Of course not," she said. "I only saw him for that week I visited the United States. He's a sweet kid and all, but I need more time before I make up my mind."  
  
They quickly found their bags rummaging through the cargo hold of the Hogwarts Express and slipped on their robes.  
  
"Whatever happened between you and Krum, anyway?" asked Harry as he dawned his black robe and cap.  
  
Hermione flushed a bit red. Victor Krum was one of the contestants during the Tri-Wizard Tournament and had been dating Hermione during that time.  
  
"Oh, I just, I'm just not up for sporting a long distance relationship. Between his Quiddich and my schoolwork, I don't have the energy."  
  
"How did Krum take it?" asked Harry as Hermione and him dismounted the train.  
  
It was an uncharacteristically cold night on the Hogwarts grounds, as the moon seemed to be covered by low hanging clouds above. A whipping wind blew out over the lake, chilling Harry under his rather thin robe.  
  
Hermione shrugged, her flowing hair seeming to bounce with the action. "Not that well, but he's doing ok. I owled him last week."  
  
Further conversation was interrupted by the traditional call that Harry unknowingly had waited for the entire trip.  
  
"Firs' years and all firs' time Hogwarts students, 'is way!" bellowed Hagrid's familiar voice. His message had changed slightly, however.  
  
"Hagrid!" shouted Harry, walking over to him.  
  
Hagrid looked down to see Harry and Hermione making their way over. "Ey there, 'arry! Nice ter be seein ya."  
  
The half-giant embraced Harry and Hermione both in one large bear hug. "Keep growin', 'arry, n' yer going ter be as big as me."  
  
The raven-haired boy smiled slightly at that absurd idea. "So, Hagrid, do you know what is going on with all the new students?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yes, do tell."  
  
Hagrid shook his head, his wild beard blowing in the breeze. "Ah can't say that ah know fer sure," he said. "That's Dumbledore's business. Ah'm sure he'll be explainin it ter ye at the feast."  
  
"Right then," said Harry with a nod. "I will see you then."  
  
Hagrid waved as Hermione and Harry moved quickly to catch up with Ron. Harry caught notice of Sean, Alex and Jessica walking over to Hagrid, with mixed emotions. Seeing the look on Sean's face brought him back to the first time he had seen the giant man. Yet, he had found out quickly that Hagrid was one of the kindest souls Harry could have ever hoped to know.  
  
He knew they would to.  
  
Jessica waved to him as Hagrid and all the first time students made their way over to the lake. Harry and Hermione caught up to Ron just in time to make it onto the same carriage as him. Along with Ron, seated across from him, was Neville Longbottom. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, however, a very upset look was evident upon Neville's round face.  
  
"Hey Neville," said Harry with a nod.  
  
Neville looked up and looked at Harry with his squinty eyes. "Hi, guys," he replied somberly, and looked back down at his knees.  
  
Hermione looked to Harry, who shrugged back to her. "We didn't see you on the train, Neville," said Hermione, trying to sound cheerful. "Where were you?"  
  
Ron also watched Neville with a bit of concern. Harry and Ron had developed a real soft spot for Neville, having lived in the same room with him for four years.  
  
"I was there," said Neville somberly. "You just didn't look for me."  
  
Harry felt a slight pang of guilt. Every year, Neville had come to Harry's compartment to hang out for a while. In truth, with all the new faces on the train, he had completely forgotten about Neville.  
  
"Sorry Neville," said Harry, feeling genuinely upset. "With all the craziness on the train, with the new Muggles and all, it got a bit crazy."  
  
Harry paused for a minute, realizing how ineloquent that sounded.  
  
Neville sighed and waved his hand dismissingly at the comment.  
  
The carriages began to roll out, traveling the winding road to Hogwarts' main entrance. Each and every time Harry returned to the school, it was like seeing it again for the first time. The castle loomed ahead, with flickering lights in nearly every window, beckoning Harry back into its warm, comforting embrace. Harry could hear his stomach growling; he had not had anything to eat all day.  
  
"How was your summer, Neville?" asked Hermione kindly, trying to cheer him up.  
  
Neville remained silent, staring at his shoes. Harry looked away from the castle back to the round faced boy and only now noticed how sunken in his eyes were, as if he hadn't slept in ages. His hair was disheveled to a point where Harry's mat appeared stylish.  
  
"Are you alright?" asked Ron, apparently noticing what Harry had noticed.  
  
Neville sighed and looked up, his face seeming drawn and stretched from fatigue and stress.  
  
"Gran died a few weeks ago."  
  
Hermione put her hand to her mouth while Harry and Ron looked at him with stunned expressions.  
  
"Oh, Neville," said Hermione, moving over to hug him compassionately. "I'm so sorry."  
  
Neville sighed again, this time more unevenly as he accepted the hug from Hermione, his strong wall to his emotions beginning to collapse.  
  
"I don't really have much of a family left," said Neville, with a bitter tone.  
  
Ron cocked his head curiously. "What about your parents, Neville?"  
  
Harry winced visibly. Of all the current Gryffindors, only he knew that Lord Voldemort had tortured both of Neville's parents horrifically under the Cruciatus curse. While they both lived, Harry knew that they did not remember who Neville was.  
  
Neville simply shook his head, his eyes beginning to ring with moisture.  
  
Ron winced and swallowed a lump of emotion. While it was not unheard of to see Neville in a bit of a funk, this was totally different.  
  
"I, I'm sorry, I should have kept it to myself," Neville stammered and what little control over his emotions he had slipped away. Hermione continued to hug him, patting his back, while Neville rested his forehead against her shoulder.  
  
Harry and Ron both looked at each other with bewildered expressions. Harry had never been in the position to console anyone before in his life. The closest thing to true loss experienced by one of his friends was when Ron thought Hermione's cat Crookshanks had eaten his pet rat, Scabbers. As it turned out, Ron wished the cat had succeeded, for the rat turned out to be one of Voldemort's most loyal Deatheaters.  
  
And so the carriage finally came to a stop without any words, with Hermione still cradling Neville's head.  
  
"We are here for you," she said softly. "We can talk about it later tonight."  
  
Neville looked up to her and nodded, without saying any words. Harry and Ron helped Neville stand, and the four friends left the carriage at a slow pace. Almost immediately, they bumped into Seamus and Dean, who were waiting by the main hallway of Hogwarts. Upon seeing them, they rushed out to greet them.  
  
"Harry! Ron!" exclaimed Seamus with a wide-eyed expression, as the light from the castle reflected off his silver prefect's badge. "You have GOT to see this."  
  
Harry momentarily forgot about Neville as he cocked his head. "See what?"  
  
Dean seemed totally freaked out, as if he had just seen a ghost, one that did not attend Hogwarts. "Just come on!"  
  
Ron and Harry hurried off after Dean and Seamus, running though the main hall. As always, the room seemed to shimmer with the beautiful glow of magic, as the walls were decorated with floating torches. A new addition, however, was a red carpet that rolled itself out to the four boys as they raced to the Great Hall of Hogwarts.  
  
Half of the student body assembled outside of the hall, talking in high- pitched voices. Seamus led the way through the crowd and into the hall, followed closely by Dean, Harry and Ron. Upon entering, each of the boys paused to take a deep breath.  
  
The hall was beautifully decorated, as it always was the first night, with floating candles, suspended in the air with magic. Yet, there seemed nothing strange about the Great Hall to make the entire student body so spooked. The faculty table sat unmanned at the front of the hall, with five great tables spanning vertically across the room,  
  
And then, Harry's jaw dropped.  
  
"Um, perhaps someone put a Memory Charm upon me," said Ron enunciating each word clearly. "But, were there not only four tables in Hogwarts?"  
  
"Do you guys have a clue?" asked Seamus Finnegan, scratching his sandy brown hair.  
  
Harry shot a confused look to Seamus. "You are the prefect; you tell us,"  
  
Seamus shrugged helplessly. "I have no idea. All I know is that for nearly a thousand years, Hogwarts has had four houses. I have no idea what this fifth table is for."  
  
"Well," said Dean, holding up his finger intellectually. "There HAS been a massive increase in students, if you haven't noticed."  
  
Ron scratched his chin, as Hermione and Neville had caught up to them. Their reactions were just as similar.  
  
"Anything about this in Hogwarts; A History?" asked Ron dubiously.  
  
Hermione thought for a moment. "I'd have to get back to you on that one."  
  
Ron looked to Hermione. "I was kidding, I think."  
  
"Well," said Harry, taking a few more steps into the Great Hall. "We won't be finding any answers standing out here with our thumbs up You-Know- Where."  
  
Seamus smirked slightly. "Cute."  
  
"I thought so," said Harry with a clever grin as he sat down at the second table from the left, the table that he guessed was now for Gryffindors. Hermione sat down next to Harry, and everyone else began to file in, sitting down at the tables they guessed would belong to their House. There was an eerie echo of anticipation amongst the crowd; most could not wait to hear what was going on.  
  
And without much further delay, the teachers began to file in. First came Professor Flitwick, the diminutive Charms Professor who seemed very excited about something judging by the skip to his step. In there own time, the professors entered the room as the rest of the students sat down and filled the hall, with the exception of the one extremely large table on the far side of the room, practically against the wall. Professor Snape was one of the last to enter; now only Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall were missing.  
  
"Blimey, it looks like some manner of creature crawled up his arse and died there," said Ron as he leaned across the table, speaking to Harry and Hermione.  
  
Harry looked to Snape and saw that the sallow, severe looking man looking exceptionally grave.  
  
"If that's all that wrong with him, I'd say he's having a good day," said Seamus out of the corner of his mouth.  
  
"He must have been turned down again for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job," offered Hermione. "I wonder who is teaching it."  
  
Finally, all that was missing was Professor McGonagall, who was still with the first years. While Harry had only been able to attend one other sorting ceremony that wasn't his own, it seemed like this was taking much longer than it should have.  
  
And where was Dumbledore?  
  
"Hey," said Dean, looking around the room. "Dumbledore is usually, well, no, ALWAYS here before anyone else arrives."  
  
A loud voice shot over from the Slytherin table. "Maybe the stupid Muggles couldn't even figure out how to row the bloody boats!"  
  
Harry did not need to look over to know who the speaker was. Snape's expression seemed to lighten up upon hearing that comment, but Professor Flitwick stared bewilderedly at Malfoy. The entire Slytherin table began to laugh.  
  
"That will do!" squeaked the little man. "The next comment like that will cost the speaker five points!"  
  
Malfoy bit his lip sourly and stared at the empty plate in front of him.  
  
Another ten minutes passed in silence as Harry watched the doors to the Great Hall in expectation. Finally, when it seemed the tension in the room had culminated into a tangible force, the doors to the Great Hall swung open. First, Professor McGonagall entered dressed in her usual green robes with her acute spectacles and a very stern look upon her face, even more so than normal. About thirty first year girls and boys followed her, looking nervously around at all the faces in the Great Hall. Yet, the procession did not stop there, as larger children continued to file into the hall, followed by older still.  
  
"Blimey," said Ron, his eyes wide. "There is sure a heck of a lot of them."  
  
Harry nodded as over one hundred children, ranging from pre-teens to young adults who looked as old as seventh-years lined up nearly back to the Great Hall entrance, in between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables.  
  
One of the figures waved to them, and Hermione waved back. Sean stood near the end of the line, smiling brightly under his black cape and Hogwarts robe. Next to him stood the very dull face of Alex, looking rather morbid and depressed. Behind him, Jessica looked to Harry with a nervous expression upon her face.  
  
"You'll do fine," Harry mouthed clearly. Jessica seemed to get his message and smiled a bit more.  
  
Professor Dumbledore entered at the end of the line, his ponderous white beard nearly touching his toes. With a twinkle in his crystal blue eyes and an excited gait to his usually slow step, he maneuvered through the line and took his place at the faculty table. With a sweeping gesture, Professor Dumbledore produced the Sorting Hat from beneath his robe. To Harry, the patchwork hat seemed to look much younger than ever. Every time Harry had seen it, it came off as an old hat in very poor repair. Now, it almost seemed to glow with radiant energy.  
  
"Did they make a new Sorting Hat or something?" asked Harry, leaning over to speak to Hermione.  
  
The wavy-haired girl shook her head. "I think it is just very excited. It is about to get four years worth of sorting in one."  
  
Harry hummed in consideration as he sat back to watch.  
  
The hat was handed over to Professor McGonagall as it shifted to reveal a large, gaping mouth. Without further adieu, a dry but rhythmic song filled the Great Hall  
  
Oh, once again a song so true, To fill a heart with cheer. But now I offer a single clue, That is why I'm here. So put me on and try me out, To show me what's up there. Do not fret and do not pout, What lies beneath your hair? Will you be a Ravenclaw, And look smart and wise to me? As many books Rowena saw, Is that your house to be? Or maybe Hufflepuff is where, True friends and workers unite. Following Helga, with great care, With lives free of spite. Do you belong with Godric's might? House Gryffindor, straight and bold. Who never panic with foot or flight, And fear nothing truth be told. Or are you sly and cunning, Perhaps with cold deceit. Salazar's Slytherins keep on running, And never know defeat. And now my song should end, But, no, I am not done. For now is the start of trend, A rising of a new sun. I am proud to introduce, For the first year today, A new destiny for new produce, So listen to what I say. A new house for new power, For mysteries we cannot see, To see the dawn of a new hour; A new page in history. House Narhassa's given rebirth, From an ancient order of old, For those have yet to see their worth, And those of power so untold.  
  
The hat ended its unusually long song. Both songs that Harry had witnessed before had been met with tumultuous applause by the student body and faculty alike. Yet this time, only a handful of students gave haggard claps. Most were too busy whispering to the people sitting next to them.  
  
"A new house?" whispered Ron across the table. "What's going on?"  
  
Seamus looked just as baffled as Ron. "I have not a clue."  
  
Hermione looked concerned. "Never once in Hogwarts; A History was a new house added."  
  
"Narhassa was an old order of wizards that went extinct over eight hundred years ago," explained Ron while Harry nodded.  
  
A puzzled look crossed Hermione's face. "What happened to them?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "No one knows for sure. They vanished right about the time of the Founders' death."  
  
"Freaky!" exclaimed Dean.  
  
The Sorting Ceremony began, distributing the first years into random houses. When the Sorting Hat boomed out "GRYFFINDOR," their conversation was suspended as they applauded the new first years. The occasional shout "NARHASSA!" was met with a very dim applause, for there was no one at the empty table to welcome them.  
  
And now, the older students began to try on the hat, and each time without fail, the Sorting Hat shouted out "NARHASSA!" About thirty minutes later, the hat was only half done with all the new students, who went nervously to the extra table and began to fill it up.  
  
"Blimey!" exclaimed Ron, looking extremely impatient and hungry. "Can't they just say: 'All remaining students, go to House Narhassa?'"  
  
Harry agreed wholeheartedly with Ron as he stomach was now audibly protesting this long wait.  
  
Hermione looked at Ron sourly. "If you had ever read Hogwarts; A History, you would know that every student who has studied here for the past thousand years have to be sorted into a house. They cannot break that tradition."  
  
Ron looked exasperated. "We'll we've already broken about a dozen traditions this year. Can't we just keep going and not look back?"  
  
Another fifteen minutes later, the older students, those who would have been in their fifth year, began to be called up.  
  
"Camaradi, Sean," called out Professor McGonagall, her voice nearly choking in her throat from overuse. Professor Dumbledore handed her a glass of water.  
  
The red-haired boy calmly walked up to the hat and placed it on over his head. There was a long pause as the hat slipped down over his face. Sean's small height and skinny frame made him looked like a first year student, buried beneath the hat.  
  
Yet, while the hat did not say anything for a long while, Harry, Hermione and Ron hardly noticed. Ron's head was in his hands and a rhythmic breathing was audible over the silent crowd.  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat, shocking everyone back to reality.  
  
Harry, who was on the verge of falling asleep himself, bolted upright and blinked away his fatigue. Ron's arms slipped out from under his chin and his head smacked into the table with an alarming start. At first, no one applauded, as if they thought perhaps it was a figment of their imagination. It was Hermione, however, that began clapping first. Eventually, the entire Gryffindor table began to applaud. Before long, everyone was standing, offering an extremely warm welcome to Gryffindor's first muggle student.  
  
Seamus Finnegan pushed over as Sean made his way over to them, congratulating him. With a bright smile, Sean sat down next to Harry.  
  
"Am I the first Muggle to be sorted into a real house?" asked Sean, his eyes bright and alive. Hermione reached over Harry and shook gave Sean's hand a squeeze.  
  
"I think so," she said sweetly. "Good job!"  
  
If Sean could possibly grow any happier, he rose to the occasion handsomely. Harry caught Ron out of the corner of his eye, sulking a bit.  
  
"Guardings, Alex," called out Professor McGonagall, after a few more "Narhassas."  
  
The hat barely touched the top of his head, as it had done with Draco Malfoy so many years ago. Without even taking a moment to reconsider considering, the hat bellowed out: "NARHASSA!"  
  
Alex took off the hat bitterly and strode over to the new table dejectedly, which was now nearly full with new students. To Harry, it seemed as though he was upset about not being as special as Sean.  
  
After a few more calls of "NARHASSA," finally, it was Jessica's turn. Jessica calmly strode up to the hat and placed it over her head. Harry held his breath in anticipation.  
  
It took nearly a minute, as Sean's had done. Good sign, thought Harry.  
  
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat finally cried out.  
  
The entire Hufflepuff table stood up, hooting and applauding loudly. After all of the students who had been Sorted, it seemed like everyone was excited to see some sort of break in the pattern. Even the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables gave their share of applause.  
  
"Well," said Hermione, looking at Harry. "At least she's in a Wizarding House."  
  
Harry nodded his head. It was impossible to hide a shred of disappointment. He had been hoping with all his heart that she would be sorted into Gryffindor..  
  
Yet, Hufflepuff was as close to a companion house to Gryffindor as was possible.  
  
Finally, it was time to sort the sixth years. Harry couldn't say that he knew any of them, but one boy caught his eye and held it. He was a sly looking boy whose hair seemed to rebel against his wizard's cap, sticking out like charred black spikes. His face seemed to form a triangle as his acute ears, his pointy nose and his prominent chin made up a crude, geometric figure. As if sensing Harry was staring at him, he rolled his dark green eyes over to him, with a listless sort of ennui.  
  
There was something so familiar about this boy; that sly look, that gait, that expression, that expression of pure deadened malice.  
  
At once, Harry felt his scar erupt with a surge of pain. He closed his eyes in agony, clutching his fist to his forehead, in an attempt to suffer without drawing attention. Instead of the black, backs of his eyelids, he only saw white as the pain clawed at his head like a prisoner trying to free itself. His ruse did not fool Ron and Hermione, who knew Harry so well that they could practically sense his pain.  
  
"Harry? Harry?" said Hermione, shaking his shoulder. "What's wrong?"  
  
Harry lifted his eyes to behold the sixth year muggle. The boy was still staring at him, the top corners of his mouth set into an evil smile.  
  
"Redetyor, Seth!" Professor McGonagall rasped with a failing voice, as she finished off the glass of water that Professor Dumbledore had given her.  
  
The boy calmly folded his hands and walked forward, his tall strides quickly putting him into the chair and beneath the Sorting Hat. Instead of the immediate process of sorting, the hat considered the boy for a full minute. Harry panted, as the pain in his scar began to subside.  
  
"Was it - Was it the scar?" Ron was stammering, drawing a concerned look from Seamus, Dean and Sean. "You-Know-Who?"  
  
Harry shook his head, clearing his mind of the pain at last. "I, I don't know. It can't be!"  
  
"SLYTHERIN!" called out the hat as it was lifted from the boy's head.  
  
The young man named Seth Redetyor calmly strolled his way toward the Slytherin table though was not met with much welcome there. Draco Malfoy made it a point to slide as far away from the new boy as possible. Most Slytherins pushed away from him, giving him a buffer zone of about two feet on each side of his table.  
  
"Not exactly greeting him with their arms open, are they?" asked Sean, biting his lip slightly.  
  
Ron lifted his concerned stare from Harry and glanced over. "No, not at all," he said shortly.  
  
"I wonder why that is," thought Sean out loud.  
  
"They hate Muggles," said Hermione, reasonably. "They are all elitist pigs."  
  
Yet something else clawed at Harry's chest. He was not so sure that was the reason. He shifted his glance from the back of Seth's head, to Draco Malfoy, who sat across the table, a few positions to the right. He was watching Seth with a look not of contempt, but of concern.  
  
"I think even the Slytherins sense he is the wrong sort," said Harry at length. "I have seen that boy before."  
  
Ron, Sean and Hermione both looked at Harry quizzically.  
  
"Where?" asked Ron.  
  
Harry pointed to Ron. "When you and me went into the Chamber of Secrets, at the end of our second year."  
  
Ron's eyes widened with utter disbelief. "You don't mean,"  
  
"Yes, I do mean,"  
  
He nodded to Seth, whose back was now to him as he sat upright at the Slytherin table. Harry spoke in a very chilling and drawn out tone.  
  
"That is Tom Marvolo Riddle." 


	5. Startling Revelations

A/N: Would just like to thank all those who reviewed this story on Schnoogle, at FictionAlley.com! You guys inspired me to keep writing and posting my work. I hope you all like this story here as well! Please read and review, it's how I get my kicks after work. If you hate the story or are bored with it, please tell me why. While I love good reviews, I only learn from bad ones.  
  
Chapter 5: Startling Revelations  
  
"Who's Tom Marvolo Riddle?" asked Sean, almost immediately, not giving Harry Ron and Hermione a chance to properly gawk. "Sounds like the name of a used car dealer."  
  
Sean's vain attempt to break the thick cloud triangle of fear between his three friends was in vain.  
  
"Harry," said Ron slowly, finally breaking the tension. "I know we are all on edge right now. But, eh,"  
  
Hermione sighed as well, "It must be a coincidence, perhaps You-Know- Who, wherever he is, looked at a picture of you and felt a seething hatred at the same time Seth Redetyor's name was called, that would have explained the pain in your head."  
  
This unnerved Harry a great deal. Hermione was usually not one to downplay any possible crisis, and if anything, it would have been more of Harry's role to suggest such an idea, in order to stop Hermione from racing to the library for three weeks to find out all she could about Youth Potions and Wizard Plastic Surgery.  
  
"Hermione," said Harry forcefully. "He looked right into my eyes and smiled, and then I felt it!"  
  
Hermione shook her head. "There is simply no way Dumbledore would have invited Voldemort to the school. You know it and I know it."  
  
Sean shrugged, completely in the dark. "Have you tried some Aspirin? Maybe you are just dehydrated."  
  
Harry's first temptation was to smack Sean, until he realized that the small boy was completely ignorant as to whom Voldemort even was.  
  
"No," said Harry, mustering as much control as possible. "It's something else."  
  
The rest of the Sorting Ceremony finished up, and finally, Dumbledore stood in place of Professor McGonagall, who walked with a wooden hand to her brow and a lightheaded look upon her face.  
  
"Please welcome the new students of all Houses as well as the Founders of House Narhassa!"  
  
While the hall was filled with applause, it seemed as though it should have been MUCH louder. The Slytherins, all watching Seth shiftily, gave up very little praise, while most of the Muggles sitting at the Narhassa felt too shy to put much enthusiasm into the clap.  
  
Thus was the tension when the Great Feast began.  
  
"And now, let us eat!" said Dumbledore, waving his hands into the air.  
  
All at once, a roast beef appeared upon the table, with countless bowls of rice, carrots, salad and mash potatoes. Harry looked over to see Sean's eyes wide with surprise.  
  
"If you need anything, just ask for it," said Harry kindly. "Pumpkin Juice!"  
  
Out of the blue, a small goblet appeared in front of Harry, filled with the sweet liquid.  
  
"Um," said Sean, scratching his head. "Coke!"  
  
Ron looked as if he had been slapped as his eyes shot up from his plate at Sean.  
  
"Is that some kind of sick joke, man?" asked Ron, his brows arched.  
  
Nothing had appeared in front of Sean, causing Seamus Finnegan to look at him with a dubious expression.  
  
"Are you a druggie, Sean?"  
  
Sean's face flushed red with embarrassment, while Hermione shook her head.  
  
"He doesn't mean cocaine, you two prats! He's talking about Coca-Cola; it's a Muggle drink that's popular the world over!"  
  
"Oh," said Seamus and Ron, at the same time. With a shrug, Ron resumed his meal while Seamus went back to conversing with Dean and Neville.  
  
Sean scratched his soft, ruddy hair and held up his hand. "Coca-Cola?"  
  
Still, nothing appeared in front of him.  
  
"I don't think the house elves know how to make it," said Hermione, leaning over and looking across Harry to Sean. "Talk to Dumbledore about it. He can probably show them how to do it. Try lemonade, or pumpkin juice."  
  
Ron looked at Hermione strangely. "Isn't that against your house elf rights policy?"  
  
Hermione gave Ron a rather bland "you-are-just-trying-to-provoke-me" look.  
  
"You know as well as I do that the house elves will love the fact he made a personal request."  
  
Sean nodded with a confused smile. "That's, that's, cool. But, what's a house elf?"  
  
Harry remained silent the entire time. Perhaps his friends were not taking him seriously at the moment; heck, he wasn't even sure he took himself completely seriously. Yet, sitting just one table away, dressed as a Hogwarts student and complete with his own evil aura was the Dark Lord himself! He had looked at Harry, grinned, and suddenly caused a surge of pain to shoot through his head. Somehow, Voldemort had found a way to make himself young and human looking again, and now was attending Hogwarts as a sixth year Slytherin!  
  
As crazy as this seems, Dumbledore will have to know, deduced Harry. Something, however, was preventing him from screaming out in protest right then and there, however. Certainly, Dumbledore would have remembered how Tom Riddle looked; wouldn't he? If it was REALY Tom Marvolo Riddle, was there any chance Dumbledore would have not known and accepted him?  
  
That brought a flutter of doubt the Harry's mind.  
  
"As you all know," continued Dumbledore. "The Forbidden Forest is, well, quite forbidden. This means no student is to enter, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES!"  
  
Harry jumped slightly from his contemplations as Dumbledore, for the first time he could remember, spoke loud enough for his voice to reverberate off the walls with amazing force.  
  
"Reasonable enough," said Hermione knowingly. "For all we know, Voldemort could be lurking right outside now."  
  
Or inside, thought Harry as he shot another weary glance to Seth, who was sitting at the Slytherin table.  
  
"Also, all students are reminded that a strict curfew has been enforced. No one is to be outside of their Common Rooms after sunset," continued Dumbledore, his unusually grave voice commanding respect from even Fred and George Weasley, who were always quick to throw in quips. "This condition is not negotiable!"  
  
"But, Professor," called a voice from the Ravenclaw table. "What about Quiddich practice?"  
  
"Not negotiable," repeated Dumbledore, neither more aggressively nor less forcefully.  
  
Dumbledore hardly ever took such a powerful stance on something, so when he did, it was widely respected by the student body. While the news was disturbing at best and devastating at worst, Harry accepted it as gospel.  
  
Dumbledore deserved that for all the times he had helped him.  
  
"Finally," said Dumbledore, seeming to act his age for one of the first times as weary lines formed in his face. "If anyone notices anything out of the normal, do not hesitate to speak to the heads of your house."  
  
Harry raised a brow to that. It seemed that very little in ever appeared IN the normal at Hogwarts. He wondered how many reports of strange sightings he would get from the first years,  
  
Dumbledore continued. "For as long as I have been alive, I have always endeavored to be honest. I was as forthcoming as I dared to be last year, speaking to you the truth about Cedric Diggory. I will continue to put such trust in you and hope you return it to me."  
  
Dumbledore paused for a moment, and despite the several hundred people sitting in close quarters, it was so quiet that Harry would have been able to distinguish a fly passing gas from across the hall should the event transpire.  
  
"We are all living in perilous times. With Lord Voldemort having risen from the ashes of death and his followers returning to his side, we must do what we can to protect ourselves. As a result," said Dumbledore sternly. ", I have searched high and low for a fitting Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. I have searched through ponderous lists of Aurors as well as other wizards of more unsavory backgrounds and have come up with but one name that appeals to me. Despite his past career at Hogwarts coming to an end by his own choice, I have pleaded with him to return."  
  
Harry's eyes widened and a joyous smile broke out upon his face.  
  
"I know many of your parents will not agree and question my judgment concerning my role of entrusting a werewolf to teach my students, but he has been, hands down, the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we have had in decades. If there is one wizard on the face of this planet who can prepare you for the potentially dark times ahead, there is no better choice. Please give a warm welcome to my friend and colleague, Professor R. J. Lupin."  
  
Harry was not the only one who leapt out of his chair, hollering and applauding with exuberance as the sandy-haired, pale-faced man entered the Great Hall. For the moment, he cast aside all thoughts about Seth Redetyor as he watched Lupin wave sheepishly to all the applauding students. He was dressed as shabbily as ever, wearing dirty brown robes with off color patches. Nearly the entire Gryffindor table from years three to seven roared with approval, while just shy the same number of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students were on their feet cheering. And while the Slytherins, as expected, seemed disdainful, nearly half of their ranks applauded respectfully. Draco Malfoy looked beside himself, glaring coldly at Professor Lupin and Dumbledore.  
  
Professor Lupin walked down the isle between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables, shaking hands with some of his former students. Harry was quick to offer his hand to Lupin as he walked by.  
  
"Alright, Professor!" exclaimed Harry, his bright smile reflecting the light of the candles above him as he clasped Lupin's hand firmly.  
  
"It is great to see you again, Harry," said Lupin with a weak, but sincere smile. "How does the Patronus look?  
  
Harry's green eyes added a glow to his countenance that brought out a joyous quality to his demeanor.  
  
"Summoned it during the Tri-Wizard Tournament against a boggart, thinking it was a dementor," he said coyly. "It looked good."  
  
Lupin nodded and smirked faintly as he continued past Harry, shaking Hermione and Ron's hands, accepting their welcomes as well. After nearly a minute, Professor Lupin made it to the faculty table and stood before the final, empty seat between a dire looking Snape and a delighted look Flitwick. The entire hall went quiet as Lupin turned to look over all of the student body. It was customary for a new teacher to make a short speech, and everyone quieted up for the event.  
  
"It is with a heavy heart that I return to you," began Lupin, with a sad tone. This caught Harry a bit off guard. "I am sorry that you all must live through these extremely harsh times. Yet, I am both honored to return by invitation of Professor Dumbledore, and relieved to receive such a warm welcome from many of my students, two years ago." Lupin lowered his eyes for a moment, as the calmly put his hands onto the table in front of him. "I will understand that the thought of a werewolf teacher, showing you how to protect yourselves against dark arts and evil, may serve to be unsettling. However, I promise to fulfill my end and teach everyone how to be that much stronger if faced with an unpleasant situation. All that I ask for in return is a chance to earn your trust."  
  
Lupin ran his hand through his dirty-blonde hair and shrugged weakly. "That is all."  
  
Once again, applause filled the entire hall.  
  
"We love you, Professor!" shouted Fred loudly over the crowd, drawing laughs from nearly all of the tables in the room.  
  
Lupin's usually reserved expression cracked into a rare smile at that comment. It was clear that Lupin had not expected such a positive ensemble of students to welcome him back. Why this was, Harry could only guess. If being a werewolf bothered the average student twice as much as it bothered Harry, they would still willingly eat out of his hand and hang on every word of his lessons.  
  
Harry felt a slight tapping upon his shoulder. He looked to see Sean looking at him, with his green eyes filled with concern.  
  
"He's really a werewolf?" asked Sean slowly, his hand shaking a bit.  
  
The raven-haired boy shook his head firmly. "No, he is a human being who goes into seclusion for few days a month because of an unfortunate accident that befell him when he was a boy."  
  
Sean quickly caught onto Harry's meaning and lowered his head. "Oh. I'm sorry."  
  
Harry pat Sean upon the back. "No hard feelings. You did not know."  
  
"Well said, Professor," said Dumbledore as Lupin sat down. "Professor Lupin has also accepted the job of Head of House Narhassa, and will be very accessible to those students as they settle all settle in for their first year at Hogwarts."  
  
The student body again clapped, showing their approval.  
  
"And with that, I bid you all good evening. Prefects, lead your students to their common rooms. Professor Lupin, if you would take your house to their common room and return for a staff meeting, I would be in your debt."  
  
Lupin nodded and smiled faintly as he rose, and with a dim murmur of footfalls and whispers, every student left the hall marching calmly.  
  
The three Gryffindor prefects, Seamus Finnegan, a sixth year girl named Moressia Holden and Katie Bell, the seventh year chaser on the Quiddich team, lead their house up the stairwell leading toward the Gryffindor common room.  
  
"Oh yes," Seamus began to say as he instinctively overstepped the fourth stair. "Watch out for trick steps," he said. "It was a precaution implanted shortly after Sirius Black assaulted some students in the Gryffindor tower two years back."  
  
Yet, it was too late. Harry was distracted by a yelp of shock as Sean grabbed the back of his leg and tripped him. Sean had fallen up to his waist into the adhesive fake step and, in panic, had grabbed for the closest tangible object. With a grunt, Harry fell to his knees and shrugged off a slight bruising pain as his knee banged into a step. Harry pushed himself off the steps, as Ron and Hermione each grabbed one of Sean's arms and pulled him up.  
  
"Err, sorry," said Sean, as nearly every wizard in House Gryffindor turned their head toward him. Sean pointed to the step he was just freed from. "Trick step, got it."  
  
Hermione smiled shortly, and pat Sean on the back. "You'll get the hang of it, Sean." With her free hand, she dusted Sean's leg off kindly.  
  
Ron snorted slightly, putting his hands to his hips at Hermione's show of affection to Sean.  
  
"Doubtful. He is not exactly the smartest of sorts," he said softly, so only Harry could hear.  
  
Harry looked to Ron with a puzzled expression as they continued up the stairs. There was only one time Harry could remember seeing Ron act unjustifiably mean like this to another person. This was last year, when Victor Krum and Hermione were formally together. Why doesn't he give her some sort of clue that he wants her instead of being a jealous pillock?  
  
This made Harry sigh.  
  
Finally, they made their way to the portrait of the Fat Lady, waiting eagerly for them.  
  
"Password?" she asked, looking up from her typewriter.  
  
"Wizard's Chess," said Seamus. "Remember that everyone."  
  
"If you say so," replied the Fat Lady, as she swung open, revealing the all too familiar Gryffindor Common Room.  
  
The extremely cozy lounge consisted of about a dozen round tables and four times that many marooned cushioned chairs. In the far back wall, a sofa and a few lazy-boy recliners were positioned strategically around a warm, crackling fireplace. Harry took a breath of the air within this room, smelling the deep clean scent of burning wood.  
  
Harry was home.  
  
Seamus explained to all the new students where their dormitories were and reinforced the sundown policy. Without much further delay, most people trudged up the stairs to the dormitories, having had long enough of a day. The six Gryffindor 5th year boys clambered up to their room and opened the wooden door tiredly.  
  
It never ceased to amaze Harry how magical of a castle Hogwarts really was. Their room had mysteriously increased in size by a fraction to accommodate a sixth four-posture bed with velvet maroon curtains for Sean. The new boy was simply amazed to find that all his luggage was right on the side of his bed, and his clothes were already unpacked and in his own dresser.  
  
"Tight!" exclaimed Sean as he changed out of his robe and into his pajamas.  
  
It was old news to the other Gryffindor boys as they stoically changed from their robes to their pajamas. Seamus cast a quick Cleaning Charm upon his toothbrush and sat lazily in his bed while the toothbrush went to work in his mouth.  
  
"Let me get this right," said Sean as he removed from his backpack a small bag. "House elves do our chores and cook our food, are their any hobbits to do our homework for us?"  
  
Seamus was too busy being lazy by casting spells on his toothbrush as well as his facecloth to give Sean much of a response. His washcloth rose from his drawer and flew out of the room, returning wet a moment later.  
  
"No, you actually have to do that yourself, if you can," said Ron with a snort as he flopped into bed, pulling his curtains tight.  
  
Neville seemed to have already barricaded himself off in his bed and not heard him.  
  
Sean and Harry both looked to Ron's bed.  
  
"Was it something I said?" Sean murmured.  
  
Harry offered Sean a shrug. "It'll take awhile to win him over, I think," he whispered softly.  
  
"He doesn't like me?" asked Sean with a quiet tone dripping with naiveté.  
  
The raven-haired boy sat down upon his bed while Sean stared at him in his light blue pajamas. Harry beckoned him over lazily. Without questioning him, Sean moved over to Harry and cocked an ear in his direction.  
  
"You didn't hear this from me," said Harry in an extremely quiet whisper. "But, we all suspect he fancies Hermione. We also suspect that Hermione fancies you. That is making Ron a bit cold toward you."  
  
Even in the dark, Harry could see Sean blush slightly. "Well, I like Hermione too," he said shifting his weight uneasily. "I'm sorry about Ron, though."  
  
Harry waved the comment aside. "He has always had a soft spot where Hermione is concerned," he explained quietly. "Once he gets used to the idea, I think he'll start warming up to you."  
  
"That's cool," replied Sean, with a calm and easy tone. "He seems like a nice guy. Just sort of angry, that's all."  
  
Harry nodded and backed away just about the same time as Seamus put away his toothbrush and closed his curtains.  
  
"Anyway, I'm going to bed," said Harry. "Good morrow."  
  
Sean looked a bit puzzled, but went back to his own bed for the night. 


	6. Rude Awakening

A/N: Would just like to thank all those who reviewed this story on Schnoogle, at FictionAlley.com! You guys inspired me to keep writing and posting my work. I hope you all like this story here as well! Please read and review, it's how I get my kicks after work. If you hate the story or are bored with it, please tell me why. While I love good reviews, I only learn from bad ones.  
  
Chapter 6: Rude Awakening  
  
Harry's eyes fluttered slightly and finally opened.  
  
"Ugh," said Harry as he rubbed his face wearily, trying to free himself of the dull throbbing behind his eyes. Something had rudely awakened him from a deep sleep.  
  
Calmly reaching over for his glasses, Harry pushed his black hair out of his face and sat up in his very large four posture bed.  
  
Something is wrong.  
  
With an air of suspicion, Harry pushed open the curtain to his bed and slipped off of the mattress. It took a moment for his eyes to get adjusted to the dark. The silhouettes of the five other beds in the room could be distinguished in the pale glow of the moon as it cast a gloomily light through the window. As Harry found a pair of socks and pulled them on over his feet, the shadows began to shorten and the room adjusted to his eyes more clearly. Four of the five beds were undisturbed, with curtains pulled tight and rhythmic snoring and breathing sound from behind each of them. Yet, one of the beds had Harry's undivided attention. The curtains were parted and the comforter was thrown back and disheveled, showing clearly that no person lay asleep within its folds.  
  
Sean, thought Harry.  
  
Normally, it was not Harry's place to be suspicious over an empty bed in Gryffindor tower. Often students could not sleep and went into the common room, or were using the bathroom. Yet, even had he seen Sean's form within the bed, he could not shake the feel something evil was in the air. His gut feelings had kept him alive for four years, as forces have tried to defeat and kill him. Now, he was in no position to deny the cold, clammy hand he could feel on the back of his neck, telling him something was wrong.  
  
With small steps, Harry left the dorm all fifth year Gryffindor boys shared and, dressed only in his pajamas, made his way down the winding, maroon carpeted stairs and into the common room.  
  
At first glance, nothing seemed out of place. The furniture was all cleaned and undisturbed, the tables were empty as no one was studying at this time of night, and the fire flickered warmly about, casting wild shadows around the room.  
  
Sean stood in front of the dull flames, staring down unwaveringly. His back was to Harry and his shoulders seemed slumped with fatigue. This both alarmed Harry and intrigued him all at once. Taking a few bold steps forward, Harry called out to him.  
  
"Sean?" asked Harry in a soft voice, not wishing to alarm anyone.  
  
Sean did not respond as he stared before the flames. Harry took a few more steps across the room nearly halfway to the small, red-haired boy.  
  
"Sean?" repeated Harry. "Are you feeling well?"  
  
The only reply Harry received was a hiss from the fire. Drawing to within touching distance, Harry spoke softly. "What are you looking at?"  
  
Sean's form was surrounded by an orange highlight as the glow of the fire reflected off of his skin. Harry could hear him breathing deeply, drawing air in rhythmically, yet twice as slow as normal. It was a nasty sound, a sharp intake, and five seconds later, a violent expulsion.  
  
It reminded Harry of someone breathing with a mask on.  
  
"Why aren't you talking to me?" asked Harry, putting his hand on his shoulder.  
  
Suddenly, Sean grabbed Harry's hand and whirled around. Sean's hand upon Harry's felt like ice, like the driving of a dagger through his palm. The stunned boy's arm shuttered and spasmed involuntarily in attempts to free itself, but Sean's grip was like iron.  
  
Harry's breath came to him like dragon's smoke as the air about him thickened and became as frigid as a winter night.  
  
"The Dark Lord is coming, Harry," said Sean, in a voice so alien and deep that it reminded him of one of Professor Trelawney's predictions. "He's coming for you."  
  
Harry furiously tried to pull away. His looked definitely into Sean's eyes and suddenly gasped with horror.  
  
His emerald green eyes had turned blood red.  
  
"The Dark Times are ahead, and you cannot run. You cannot hide. All there will be is death, destruction and strife. His army has already begun to take form. When we are ready, the moon will bleed and the seas will freeze. The stars will fall and the ground will rise. The Earth itself will quake in fear,"  
  
Harry felt tears of panic and pain clouding his vision as well as Sean's mild expression. His eyes, bulging crimson eyes, stared demonically at Harry, while his tongue slowly crept out of his mouth, forked like a snake. The face Harry had so willingly trusted melted away with bubbling flesh, like some sort of fluid.  
  
Leaving only a skull.  
  
", for even the Earth itself knows that nothing and no one can save it."  
  
That was all Harry remembered before he fainted due to the crystallizing pain in his hand.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Harry released the most agonized and horrified scream he was capable of. It was so loud and so reverberating that he heard about two forms crash out of their beds in the dark. With a leap that nearly took down the curtains to his bed, Harry leapt off his mattress in a surrealistic stupor. Sean, apparently, had done the same thing and crashed headlong into Harry. Harry yelled again, and Sean returned his yell with one of his own. Harry shoved Sean violently out of his face, without conscious thought.  
  
"DAMN IT ALL!" shouted the voice of Ron Weasley as the curtains to his bed flew asunder. "What in the name of bloody hell is going on?" he demanded.  
  
The other noises he had heard was those of Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, falling out of bed in a mess of tangled curtains. Even Neville, who seemed to be able to sleep through anything, was unable to survive the sharp screams. He stuck his head out of his curtains, with wide-eyed terror. Neville glanced about, as if looking to find a hidden assailant within the room.  
  
"Is, Is, Sirius back?"  
  
Harry shot a look down to Sean, who he had shoved without even realizing it to the ground. He had made solid connection with the metal frame of his bed, and did not seem to be getting up quickly. Yet, Sean's expression was not one of pain, but of pure fright. The lights to their room flew on as Seamus quickly muttered the spell.  
  
"Lumos!"  
  
Sean's emerald green eyes that so closely matched Harry's were no longer crimson and his breathing had returned to normal. In fact, he was inhaling and exhaling so rapidly that Harry figured his lungs may very well explode.  
  
"Would one of you two kindly bloody explain what is going on?" demanded Ron, looking from Harry to Sean.  
  
The realization that should have hit Harry sooner finally caught up to him.  
  
  
  
  
  
It was a dream, he realized. It was just a dream,  
  
Harry did not pretend to kid himself. There was nothing "just" about that dream. It was real. The pain in his hand, the sharp stakes of terror, the voice, it was so unbelievably real. He stared down at his hand with stupefaction, flexing it and clenching it slowly. There was no pain or even oddity about any part of it, it had been completely untouched. It must have been a dream; the most real dream he had ever experienced, barring none.  
  
"Just, just a dream," stammered Sean, still quivering in terror on the ground like a small dog narrowly avoiding an encounter with a speeding eighteen-wheeler.  
  
"What's going on?" asked a voice outside their room as the door flew open. It was Colin Creevey and the other three fourth year boys that Harry did not know well. "We heard a bunch of people screaming!"  
  
Seamus turned to Colin and his friends. "Go back to bed, all of you. The situation is under control."  
  
The other students left tiredly while Colin took another step into the room. "It's Harry, isn't it? Harry, are you alright?"  
  
Seamus stepped in his way, however. "Don't make me take points away from my own house."  
  
"It, it's fine," said Harry, mustering as much control as possible. "Thanks for your concern, Colin, but you aren't helping right now."  
  
Colin swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded weakly. With a quick step, he left the room, looking more than just a bit hurt.  
  
"It was so real," stammered Sean, drawing everyone's attention to him.  
  
"What did you see?" asked Harry, taking a knee next to Sean, trying his best to take his mind off his own dream.  
  
Sean shook his head. "It was weird, I don't understand. I was sitting in a classroom next to Alex and, your girlfriend."  
  
Harry's brow arched. "Jessica?"  
  
Sean nodded. "It was huge classroom; simply massive. There were like over five-hundred people, a thousand, ten thousand maybe, it was so large,"  
  
Seamus knelt down on the other side of Sean. "Breathe buddy, breathe."  
  
Sean paused to take a few deep breaths before continuing. "The class was being taught by, it was so horrible,"  
  
Harry grabbed Sean's shoulder very painfully, squeezing with fearsome angst. "Who was teaching it?"  
  
"Something horrible," Sean said. "I, I'd need to be a poet to describe how awful it looked, we were all sitting behind desks, it was, talking with unstaring,  
  
"Breathe!" exclaimed Seamus, interrupting him.  
  
Sean took another sharp inhalation, driving shivers down Harry's spine as the sound reminded him of his own terror.  
  
"Pupiless, blood red eyes, it told me, it told me to,"  
  
"Told you to what?" demanded Harry firmly.  
  
A tear rolled down Sean's cheek as a result of perhaps many factors: the pain from Harry's nasty shove, the complete and utter terror or a tension so thick that he could choke on it.  
  
"Prepare for the dark times," he whimpered, his voice barely above a whisper. "It, it told us our purposes in life, it was, so horrible. So real,"  
  
"What purpose?" asked Ron, his hands at his hips.  
  
"I don't know," murmured Sean. "Something about it didn't seem right, I, something possessed me, I stood up to leave the classroom before he finished explaining, it was so large, the thing wouldn't notice me gone, it stopped speaking and asked me where I was going,"  
  
Sean shivered involuntarily.  
  
"Keep talking," said Harry gently.  
  
The red-haired boy nodded feebly. "I said, I was going, I wasn't interested in learning, I felt sick,"  
  
Everyone remained silent as Sean took a pause to steady himself.  
  
"The creature called me, called me a traitor. It said it would give a chance to change my mind, and, and, told me that "this is a sign of things to come if you do not reconsider", and then it held out his hand and said, um, I don't remember, but, it felt, felt like daggers all over my body. I wanted death; I begged for it,"  
  
"Crucio," said Neville very darkly, filling in the gap in the story. "The Cruciatus Curse."  
  
"Alex and Jessica watched; they didn't help, they just watched. And, and then, I woke up," he said. "And the first thing I saw was Harry's face."  
  
Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville, in one synchronized motion, looked from Sean's crumpled form to Harry. Harry was lost in shock, though managed to keep a small semblance of order to his mind.  
  
"This creature," continued Harry. "Did it have long, dangling fingers?"  
  
Sean nodded.  
  
"Grey skin, hairless head?"  
  
Sean nodded.  
  
"And when it spoke, did it sound like a snake hissing."  
  
Sean shook his head. "Worse. I reckon if the dead could speak, it would sound like him."  
  
Harry's expression became vacant. "Voldemort,"  
  
Seamus sighed, standing up. "Look Harry, I don't mean to be apathetic, I really don't, but we are all having dreams about You-Know-Who. How can we get sleep, though, if you keep screaming about,"  
  
"Bloody hell, Seamus!" snapped Harry. "You don't find this shifty at all? First, Tom Marvolo Riddle infiltrates the school and now, me and Sean BOTH have the most terrifying nightmares of our lives at exactly the same time!"  
  
Seamus apparently wasn't too keen on who Tom Riddle really was. His vacant expression said it all. Ron looked at Harry not with Seamus' firmness, but with brotherly concern. "Harry, are you sure you are all right?"  
  
"No!" growled Harry. "I'm not bloody well sure that I am all right! I had a dream where Voldemort told me that the stars will bleed, the Earth will fall, or something, and then, and he mentioned something about an army!"  
  
Harry intentionally hid the fact that it was not Voldemort, but Sean who had spoken these words. It was likely Voldemort trying to get under his skin. To mention that the messenger was Sean, after hearing about the other boy's own nightmare, would be isolating him in a way he did not deserve.  
  
"Harry," said Ron, grasping his shoulders and speaking firmly. "You are babbling."  
  
Harry shook his head childishly. "No, I'm not."  
  
"Think about it," offered Dean, trying to be helpful. "Why would You-Know- Who send you a dream and tell you everything that he is going to do?"  
  
With a failing template of sanity, Harry stood up. "You don't know him the way I do, Dean. A failed Killing Curse does not bind you to him irrevocably. You are not responsible for his fall from grace, and,"  
  
Harry trailed off for a moment as his eyes lowered.  
  
", you aren't responsible for his second coming. He wants me with him every step of the way."  
  
Ron grabbed Harry's chin forcefully, jerking his head back level with him. "I ought to box you silly, Harry."  
  
This caught Harry off guard.  
  
"You think for one moment you are responsible for You-Know-Who's return and Cedric's Death?" demanded Ron, releasing Harry's face.  
  
Harry felt at a loss for words.  
  
"As your best friend, it is my job to inform you of something."  
  
The boy stared at Ron blankly.  
  
"There is a thin line you've been walking on for the past few months. On one side of this line is remorse and the other is nihilism, and tonight, you just took a nosedive into the latter."  
  
Seamus looked to Ron, with a stunned expression. "Wow, that was lovely."  
  
"Thank you," said Ron, not looking at Seamus.  
  
Harry sighed and backed away from Ron. "You think I am giving myself nightmares as a way to show my pain?"  
  
"Well," said Ron, trailing off for a moment. "Yes. I do."  
  
Harry glared at Ron coldly. "You didn't believe me when I pointed out Tom Riddle last night. Now, you don't believe me when Sean and I both have horrible dreams about the Dark Lord. Does "denial" have to properly drop trough and moon you before you'll accept the fact that Voldemort is alive and well?  
  
"DON'T SAY HIS NAME!" shouted Ron with just as much anger.  
  
Harry's verbal riposte was stowed for a moment as Sean slowly rose to his knees and spoke in a shy voice. "It's ok, Harry. I believe you."  
  
Harry looked down at Sean, who looked so utterly alone and terrified. It occurred to him how much harder this must be for him. If Sean's dream was as extreme as Harry's was, he could only imagine what it would be like to have to suffer it alone, in the midst of all but total strangers. Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville were all there to comfort Harry, but Sean had no one. Yet, Sean, if anything, was handling it better than Harry.  
  
Yes, thought Harry at last. Gryffindor was the right place for him.  
  
"Thanks," said Harry, looking down to Sean. "It's nice when people you don't know well give you their trust, and your best friend doesn't."  
  
Ron bit his lip angrily, and without another word, marched back toward his bed and drew the curtains tight.  
  
"I am going to sleep on the sofa," said Seamus resignedly. "Too much drama here."  
  
With that, Seamus left the dorm room, followed quickly by Dean Thomas. Neville simply pulled his head back within his curtains like a turtle, leaving Harry standing agape and Sean lying upon the ground where Harry had pushed him, making no effort to get up.  
  
Harry extended his hand to Sean, who grasped it without hesitation and pulled himself up.  
  
"Sorry about pushing you like that," said Harry. "I was a wee bit finicky."  
  
Sean rubbed the side of his head a bit. "That's fine, my head broke my fall."  
  
Harry winced slightly. "Look, Sean," began Harry.  
  
With a wave of his hand, Sean smiled with a bittersweet expression. "Thanks, Harry. I'll be here for you too, man."  
  
The words choked in Harry's mouth. "What?"  
  
Sean's remaining tension seemed to finally dissolve as his smile seemed less force. "You were going to ask me if I ever needed to talk to anyone about anything, you'd be there for me. If you need someone as well, I'll be here for you too."  
  
Harry scratched his chin. "I suppose I was going to say something on those lines, how did you know that?"  
  
Sean sat down on his bed softly, folding his hands on his lap. "I just know what people are thinking based on how they say things,"  
  
"Oh?" asked Harry, a bit curious. He lowered his voice out of consideration for his roommates. "Explain."  
  
"I, guess it's just that, when most people are talking, I tend to listen," said Sean quietly, with a half-hearted shrug. "Words only say half the story. When you listen for as long as I have, you get to the point where you understand what people are trying to say even if the words haven't come out yet."  
  
Harry sat down on his own bed, listening to Sean with interest.  
  
"Have you listened longer than others?"  
  
Sean nodded, with a sad expression on his face. "I've been forced to. For my entire life, I was mute."  
  
Harry's eyes widened with intrigue. "Huh?"  
  
"For all but the last few months of my life, I've been unable to speak," he said softly. "Yet, at the end of last spring, I woke up one day, and said "Good morning," to my mother, using words instead of sign language. It was the first time I had ever heard my own voice."  
  
This caused Harry to lapse into stunned silence.  
  
Sean's eyes twinkled slightly. "That was what she said. I don't know how it came about, but Alex also found himself with unique abilities as well. He's my first cousin, see,"  
  
"Anyway," continued Sean. "We then began to understand some things. We had both been given a gift beyond our understanding and had become more than normal humans. No normal human could lift objects in the air by desiring it, we could make things happen, it was exhilarating."  
  
Harry smiled slightly. "I know the feeling."  
  
"We each received a letter from Mr. Dumbledore over the summer, asking us if we would like to attend a few classes at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, to help us better understand our gift. Alex and I thought it would be interesting, and decided to accept."  
  
A feeling of warm respect washed over Harry's body as he saw Sean in the still lit-up room, his smile seeming to drain years out of his life. It almost seemed to Harry like Sean was exactly who Ron was during his first year of Hogwarts. The other red-haired boy had been naïve, yet extremely kind and considerate of other people. Ron had a quality when he was younger, a sort of wide-eyed charm that had won Hermione and him over. Everything that had gone on around Ron was, according to him, "wicked," as if he constantly experienced the world for the first time. Lately, however, Ron had seemed to be on edge about everything. Nothing seemed "cool" or "wicked" with him anymore. He had noticed it for the first time when he had confronted Malfoy in Diagon Alley. In place of Ron's usual hotheaded, passionate anger with Malfoy in the past, his face had been so grave and cold. He had not wanted to hurt Malfoy, or he would have just hit him with a hex. No, that time, Ron wanted to prove he was the better man and make Malfoy sweat.  
  
It had stunned Harry in a way he had not even realized at the time.  
  
Sean possessed and even exemplified the qualities he liked most about a younger Ron: passion, expression, and wide-eyed curiosity about the world around him. It was safe to say that Harry had liked Sean from the start, but after this conversation, despite only knowing him for two days, he knew the small boy was soon going to become a fast friend.  
  
Harry nodded and smiled. "It was a good choice. I hope you like it here."  
  
"I think I will," said Sean, without much hesitation. "Everyone in this house seems really nice,"  
  
Harry's reply was cut off by Ron's voice from behind his maroon curtains. "Will you two shut-up! I'm trying to sleep!"  
  
", when they aren't trying to sleep, that is," Sean awkwardly put in.  
  
For the first time since he woke up, Harry smiled fully. "Good morrow, Sean. Nox!"  
  
Sean nodded and kicked his legs up onto his bed just as the lights in the room extinguished, plunging them all into darkness. 


	7. Nothing More than Feelings

A/N: Would just like to thank all those who reviewed this story on Schnoogle, at FictionAlley.com! You guys inspired me to keep writing and posting my work. I hope you all like this story here as well! Please read and review, it's how I get my kicks after work. If you hate the story or are bored with it, please tell me why. While I love good reviews, I only learn from bad ones.  
  
Chapter 7: Nothing More than Feelings  
  
The next morning, after a fitful sleep at best, Sean donned his robe for his first day of classes. The Gryffindor tower was alive with activity as Sean, clutching his Farley's Fabulous Guide to Strange Phenomena book, made his way down the stairs. Hogwarts was such an amazing place, thought Sean as he passed by a few third year girls in their bathrobes. They smiled at him and waved as they entered their own dormitories.  
  
Despite being the only Muggle in Gryffindor, he had been welcomed with open arms. Growing up, he had always been the outsider, with few friends. After much of a fight, his parents had finally convinced his town's school system to allow him to attend public school, despite his inability to speak. His mind had always been keen and he was a fast learner, despite what people often thought. However, no amount of teaching in the world could show him how to make his own way in a society where he could not communicate very successfully. By the time he was twelve, he had grown bitter and withdrawn. It was so frustrating trying to communicate to those who warmed up to him. No one but Sean's mother and father, as well as Alex had taken the time to thoroughly learn to communicate with Sean. There was only so much he could communicate by writing a message and handing it to someone else.  
  
"Alright there, Sean. Ready for your first day?" asked a sweet voice from behind the small boy.  
  
Sean turned around to see Hermione, making her way down the stairs behind him, with two other lovely girls by her side.  
  
"This is Parvati," said Hermione, pointing to the lovely red head on her right, "And this is Lavender," she said, switching sides to a small, brown haired girl with silky brown hair and too much make-up.  
  
Sean smiled a bit and shook hands with Parvati.  
  
"It's a pleasure to meet you," said Parvati, with an uninterested look.  
  
Sean was used to this look; a look of pure boredom upon the face of someone he was introduced to. He was aware of his own uninteresting disposition. Being from a Italian/Irish background, he was given a fairly typical Italian last name and common Irish looks; red hair and green eyes. While he was athletic for his size, most girls were not impressed with a fifteen year old who was only 5'2. Parvati herself stood a few inches taller than Sean.  
  
Sean nodded his head to her politely. "Likewise."  
  
Lavender, not looking extremely keen for starting up a conversation with Sean, shook his hand with a very limp grip. "How do you like Hogwarts so far?" she asked, no doubt just trying to be civil.  
  
Sean knew much about people based on how they treated him. While he often wore a neutral expression and even pretended to not understand people as deeply as he did, a sixth sense would always tell him whether or not someone was being sincere. So far, the only true sincere people Sean had met at length were Harry, Hermione,  
  
, and Ron Weasley.  
  
The other three boys Sean had met, Seamus, Dean and Neville, all seemed to have something else on their minds, yet Ron was such an interesting person. From his trip up to Hogwarts and two days ago in Diagon Alley, he knew it would be hard to win him over. Sean had ill-needed Harry to inform him that Ron was all but in love with Hermione. If Sean's eyes made contact with Hermione's body, Ron's eyes bore into him from his flank, his side, his front, or wherever he was in relation to Sean. A very willful soul backed up his words and his actions, but there was a subtle pride in everything he did that was his, and his alone. Some parts of Ron reminded him of Alex. Both were very straightforward individuals and were territorial, not warming up to outsiders that seemed to pose a threat. Yet, while Alex was more ruthless and aggressive, Ron was very passive and even considerate in his reservations. Sean could feel Ron's dislike for him, but out of a strange courtesy the other boy seemed to hold for him, he never told him what he thought to his face.  
  
"Sean?" asked Hermione, prodding Sean's shoulder. "You have a very glazed look upon your face."  
  
"What?" retorted Sean, blinking his eyes and shaking himself out of his own mind and back into the conscious world. "Oh, right,"  
  
Parvati and Lavender were still looking at him expectantly. They must have asked me a question.  
  
"Yeah," said Sean distantly, as if stepping out onto thin ice.  
  
Lavender and Parvati looked at each other and shook their heads. They stared back at him, as if considering correcting him and asking their question again, but finally they decided against it.  
  
"Hermione, we will see you down at the Great Hall at noon for tea and lunch," said Parvati. "Bye, Sean," she added hastily.  
  
"Bye," said Sean, a bit sadly. Another one of his more annoying traits was a tendency to overanalyze everything. After living for so long without being able to reply to people, he often forgot that he was obligated to answer questions, and often forgot they were asked.  
  
Hermione looked to Sean with a strange, unreadable expression. "Your mind does have a tendency to wander, does it not?"  
  
Sean offered an apologetic sigh. "I guess it kinda shows."  
  
The wavy-haired girl laughed kindly. "What you don't put out into words, your expression shows clearly."  
  
"That's sorta what Alex always says," said Sean coyly.  
  
Hermione's smile faded quickly at the mention of Sean's cousin. "Hey, want to walk with me to breakfast?" she asked. "Harry and Ron have a first block Divination class."  
  
"Sure!" exclaimed Sean, perhaps a bit too eagerly. Sean's schedule was free for an hour. While he only had two classes, History of Magic and the Phenomena class, the latter met for three hours every day starting during second block.  
  
Walking next to Hermione was rather funny indeed. Hermione was an upstanding girl, whose healthy head of hair gave her a few fake inches of height. Sean felt embarrassingly short next to Hermione.  
  
They left the Gryffindor Common Room together, walking down the stairs of the large tower.  
  
"Ok, don't forget about the,"  
  
"Gah!" called Sean as he sunk up to his waist in the trick step for a second time. With dismay, he pushed out his lower lip and blew air across his face, tickling the hair over his forehead.  
  
", trick step," finished Hermione, her face bright as she began to laugh.  
  
Sean wrinkled his face juvenilely and smirked. "Ok, laugh it up. Please, don't help me, just enjoy a nice laugh."  
  
Hermione did just that. "Oh, this, this is just too,"  
  
The girl was not allowed to finish her sentence, however, as Sean reached up, grabbed her arm and pulled. Hermione lost her balance with one foot and, before she could recover it, landed next to Sean within the trick step.  
  
"You were saying?" asked Sean in an energetic voice, with a beaming smile.  
  
Hermione's smile had faded into a nasty scowl. "You, you! How dare you!"  
  
Sean felt his own joyful expression fading as well, replaced by a shocked, stupid look. "You, you were laughing at me."  
  
"You pillock!" exclaimed Hermione, her face red with anger. "I was going to get you out! Now, I'm going to be late for my class!"  
  
Sean frowned now, feeling so extremely stupid. What had he hoped to accomplish by getting Hermione stuck as well? They had been one of the lasts to leave the Gryffindor Common Room; perhaps no one would be coming for hours.  
  
"I lost control of my feelings," he blurted out.  
  
Hermione turned her head to stare at the smaller boy in front of her, not saying anything at first. Good God, what did I just say? thought Sean, with total and complete disbelief.  
  
"What?" she yelped loudly, as if she had just taken a wound to her arm.  
  
Sean felt as though he were trying to swim with anvils tied to each of his legs. What had turned out to be a very positive breakfast with Hermione was now in complete and utter disarray.  
  
"I, just got lost in the moment," said Sean drearily.  
  
Hermione blinked her eyes, processing Sean's words as well as her own feelings. "What moment?" she asked, with utter disgust. "There wasn't any moment! There wasn't even a second!"  
  
Sean knew he had surprised her. This much was clear. Should he say his feelings about her, or was this a bad time? Well, it's a bad time, for sure, he thought. Oh, hell, why not.  
  
"If I tell you something," said Sean nervously. "Promise you won't be mad?"  
  
Hermione's eyes widened with confusion. "Of course I'll bloody well be mad! You are likely going to make me late for my first day of class!" she exclaimed.  
  
Sean swallowed nervously.  
  
"Ever since you left California, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," said Sean, completely amazed that he did not trip over his own words.  
  
It seemed that Hermione's anger softened a bit, replaced by bewilderment. This is a good sign, thought Sean. If she hasn't slapped me yet, she'll listen to me.  
  
"What planet are you FROM!" exclaimed Hermione, though a slight shiver that ran down her body exposed her true feelings. She was exhilarated as much as angry now.  
  
Sean sighed. "You were the first girl I ever met who did not judge me without knowing me."  
  
"This is HARDLY the time for this conversation!" shot back Hermione. "I may not judge you without knowing you, but I'm two steps away from slapping you silly!"  
  
Sean lowered his head. "Go ahead. I guess I deserve it."  
  
Hermione's expression softened yet again. Those words must have stolen much of her glory.  
  
"You do," she countered weakly.  
  
"I'm usually shy," continued Sean. "But, around you, I'm not afraid to be myself."  
  
Hermione eyed him skeptically. "If you are someone who likes to pull others into your own messes," reasoned Hermione, "perhaps you should keep that part of you locked away."  
  
Sean smiled slightly. "It was a joke."  
  
"It wasn't funny," countered Hermione. "I don't like missing classes."  
  
"It's only the first day," replied Sean. "You are just going to get a syllabus."  
  
Hermione's anger finally seemed to leave her system all together. "I'm still not pleased to be stuck in a trick stair."  
  
"If I get to be stuck next to you," replied Sean, completely amazed that such suave lines were forming in his head, and his own inhibitions about saying them were not present. "I think it is worth it."  
  
Hermione stared at Sean with a sort of impressed arch of her eyebrows. No words came forth, however for a long moment.  
  
"Am I really the only person you've ever met who hasn't judged you, or is that what you Americans use as a pick-up line?"  
  
Sean ran his hand through his hair, pushing loose bangs out of his eyes. "Both, I guess. Though, I really do mean it."  
  
"You've never once met a person who didn't judge you before knowing you?" continued Hermione, pressing him.  
  
Sean shook his head. "I've had friends, but they weren't really true ones. I guess they just wanted someone quiet to listen to their problems."  
  
"You talk more than many," muttered Hermione. "You wouldn't be my pick if I had to choose someone to spill my soul to."  
  
Sean felt a slight prong of pain at that statement. Hermione was a very sincere person, and he believed that she meant that.  
  
"When you've been silent for all but the last five months of your life and suddenly find yourself able to speak, you have a lot you want to say."  
  
Now it was Hermione's turn to look stupid. "What?"  
  
Sean explained how mysteriously, right around the same time that his powers had manifested, he had found his own voice.  
  
"You, you never told me that!" stammered Hermione, confused and dumbfounded. "You mean, back when I first met you,?"  
  
", I had said my first words only three months before," finished Sean.  
  
Hermione trailed off, unable to think of anything to say.  
  
Perhaps I am laying too much on her, thought Sean as he fell silent, staring at the cream colored goo that made up the trick step, holding them both in place.  
  
"It must have been hard," said Hermione at last.  
  
"Alex kept most people from picking on me," said Sean. "It was just lonely."  
  
At the mention of Alex, Hermione winced again. "That seems most out of character for him."  
  
Sean shook his head. "Please give him a chance," he said, his voice decreasing in volume. "He has changed ever since he developed his powers. Before, he never really pushed people around. But now, he has just become so reckless and volatile that even I don't understand him anymore."  
  
"People say power has a tendency to corrupt," said Hermione brazenly. "I disagree with that," she continued. "I think power brings out who people really are. I don't believe in corruption; I believe in revelation."  
  
Sean fell silent at that for a moment. Hermione stared at him with a hard look, yet one that was all but melted away with compassion. It made Sean feel warm inside.  
  
"Do you think I'm a bad person, then? Just because of my power?" he challenged coyly, with a soft voice.  
  
"No. You are missing my entire point," replied Hermione loftily. "You wield your power lightly. I have not even seen you use it or even mention it, I don't even know if you have any or not. Alex boasted about it brazenly and earned the contempt of both Harry and Ron, two people who are so loving and forgiving that it is a challenge to get them to dislike you. On the other hand, Harry really likes you a lot, and so does Ron... even if he won't admit it."  
  
Sean locked his eyes with Hermione, with as much daring as he could muster. "And what about you? Do you like me?"  
  
Hermione's frown finally began to pull itself out of its depressing fixture; a sort of begrudging smile formed on her face. "You aren't too bad."  
  
Sean leaned forward slightly. "Even after getting you stuck in a fake stair, you think I'm ok?"  
  
This brought a slight nervous look to Hermione's face. Yet, she seemed to push it to the back of her mind. "Yes, I do." she said, softly and kindly. While she did not lean forward as well, she did not make an effort to retreat (though perhaps that was because she was stuck.)  
  
Sean, mustering all the confidence he could, reached out and lightly clasped Hermione's hand. His breath began to come to him in a labored manner has Hermione lightly squeezed back, staring at him with her lovely brown eyes.  
  
And then, Hermione began to lean forward as well. Sean felt his heart skip a beat as he reciprocated the action, closing his eyes. He put his arms around Hermione's waist, and though he could not draw her much closer as a result of the sticking gooey step, he was close enough to feel her shuttering with a strange sort of passion...  
  
Or perhaps, that was just him.  
  
He could feel her breath on his face, smelling of minty toothpaste. All too eager to put his lips against hers, he leaned forward the final stretch.  
  
"Well," hissed a voice, as crisply as acid boring through metal. "I certainly hope I am not interrupting anything."  
  
Sean's eyes flapped open, and he saw Hermione's face no more than three inches from his own. He turned his head slowly in the direction of the voice, and dropped his jaw.  
  
If there was one person in this entire world that he would have traded his own mother to replace at that moment, it was Ron Weasley.  
  
"Ron!" exclaimed Hermione, as she pulled back from Sean immediately, and stared at him with shock. "What, you are supposed to be in class!"  
  
Harry also stood behind him, all but hidden from view by the tall boy's frame.  
  
"Trelawney predicted the world would end if she conducted class today," Harry said, with a completely unreadable tone from behind while Ron just stared at the two of them, thunderstruck. "We were going back up to the Common Room."  
  
Sean never felt more humiliated in his entire life. What had just happened here? Did I really talk to Hermione about my feelings, my past and nearly kiss her while trapped up to my waist in a magical step, in the middle of broad view?  
  
"Harry! Ron!" said Hermione, her voice filled with panic. "Please help us! We are trapped."  
  
Ron crossed his arms very dourly. "Seems like the prospect had you most panicked,"  
  
"That, that's not fair!" replied Hermione indignantly. "This is not how it looks!"  
  
It was obvious that Ron was in no mood to listen, however. "I'll leave you two alone. It seems like you two have a lot in common; you both are stuck in a trap and you both want to suck each other's faces off."  
  
"Ron!" exclaimed Hermione, with a pleading voice.  
  
The emotional roller coaster that Sean was riding right now was beginning to take his toll on him. Harry stood agape, Hermione was on the verge of tears, and Sean was stunned into silence.  
  
Harry seemed to be the first to recover from the situation, however. He drew close to the step and outstretched his arm. "Give me your hand, Sean."  
  
Sean complied mechanically, and after a moment, Harry freed him. Another few seconds later, the two boys plunked Hermione out of the step.  
  
"Harry, please don't be mad at us," said Sean, finally finding his tongue.  
  
"I'm sorry," said Hermione with a frown.  
  
"I'm not, to both of you," said Harry, his green eyes glistening with understanding. "We were just at the wrong place at the wrong time."  
  
Without another word, Harry sped off after Ron, heading back down the steps, leaving Sean and Hermione looking at each other, both confused and bewildered. 


	8. Fateful Encounters

A/N: Would just like to thank all those who reviewed this story on Schnoogle, at FictionAlley.com! You guys inspired me to keep writing and posting my work. I hope you all like this story here as well! Please read and review, it's how I get my kicks after work. If you hate the story or are bored with it, please tell me why. While I love good reviews, I only learn from bad ones.  
  
Chapter 8: Fateful Encounters  
  
Harry chased Ron through the virtually empty corridors of Hogwarts, trailing at his heel while the taller boy did his best to outdistance Harry without running.  
  
"You knew it was going to happen, sooner or later!" protested Harry in between deep breaths.  
  
Ron ignored him, stamping through the corridor, playing the role of a confused and jealous fifteen-year-old well.  
  
"What did you expect?" continued Harry. "That Hermione would just wait around for you until you were ready to proposition her? Did you not learn this lesson last year?"  
  
Ron turned about, his finger extended with a jabbing point. "This is totally different! Krum was, at least, understandable. The only reason she is interested in Sean is to get under my skin!"  
  
Harry's jaw dropped while Ron turned about and continued walking, to where, Harry could only guess.  
  
"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" snapped Harry. "What's wrong with you?"  
  
Ron stopped yet again and turned around. "What's so ridiculous about it? What could she possibly SEE in a prat like SEAN? Krum was famous, he was awesome, But SEAN, I mean, he,"  
  
It was now Harry's turn to get into Ron's face. "HE is not afraid to open up to people, for one! And two, he doesn't act like a jealous pillock whenever someone else looks at the girl he is interested in!"  
  
"So, you are taking his side?" retorted Ron. "Some scummy muggle that you've only known for three days?"  
  
Harry backed down a step, eying Ron coolly. "Oh hi, Malfoy, I didn't see you there. Could you ask Ron to come back? We were having a conversation."  
  
Ron paused for a moment and heaved a deep sigh. "Ok, I'm sorry. That slipped."  
  
"Forgiven and forgotten, only cause I'm your best friend," said Harry with a slight smirk. "Look, Ron, we don't even know what they did. Maybe they were snogging, but maybe they weren't."  
  
Ron looked skeptically to Harry. "What else could they have been doing? Brushing each others teeth with their tongues?"  
  
Harry shrugged, throwing his hands up. "If they did kiss, it's not like that's the end of the world. You have to tell Hermione how you feel and let her choose."  
  
"That's easy for you to say," said Ron bitterly. "I'm not dating Mary Sue Perfect like you are."  
  
At that, Harry could not help but laugh. "I still don't know if we are formal. I guess we are, but we never actually said it."  
  
Ron also managed a smile. "Fair enough."  
  
They continued walking again, side by side, as it had always been with them. Harry was greatly relieved. He hated taking sides, choosing between two of his friends, yet he never backed down from it. Harry Potter was always a straight shooter and would voice his opinion in any matter, using as much tact as possible.  
  
Ron veered right from the corridor, heading to the third floor boy's bathroom. "So, what should I say to her?"  
  
"Well, first tell her you are sorry that you acted like a jealous git," said Harry helpfully. "Then, from there, it's your show."  
  
Ron sighed, rubbing his chin dubiously. "I'm not really good at this sort of thing."  
  
He pushed open the door to the bathroom door as Harry continued talking. "Well, none of us are really, that's why it is tough."  
  
Harry followed Ron in and around the steel separator in the bathroom. Their conversation trailed off as Harry saw Ron, his jaw dropped and his eyes wide. He was staring straight ahead of him, his body as rigid as a board.  
  
"Ron?" asked Harry as he rounded the corner as well and suddenly felt a wave of panic rush over his body.  
  
Tom Marvolo Riddle was calmly washing his hands in the sink, seemingly all but oblivious to their presence. The experience of seeing him now was twice as nerve racking as it was before. Now, there was nothing but air between Harry and the Dark Lord; there was no Dumbledore in the same room to keep him safe.  
  
After about ten seconds, Riddle looked up and noticed Harry and Ron gawking at him.  
  
"Oh hello there," said Seth (Tom), flicking his hands free of a bit of water.  
  
Neither Harry nor Ron responded.  
  
"Fine place, this Hogwarts is," he continued, speaking smoothly and slyly. The voice sent Harry back three years ago to the Chamber of Secrets. This is no coincidence, thought Harry. "Fine place indeed," repeated Riddle, washing his face with a paper towel. "So you two must be Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley."  
  
Harry, in light of the situation, was feeling increasingly bold. "And you must be Voldemort," he said, reaching for his wand under his robe.  
  
Riddle smirked slightly. "Oh no. I believe you are mistaken. I am Seth Redetyor, born to a Jeffrey Redetyor and Molly Parkinson sixteen years ago, or at least that is what the birth records will say."  
  
Ron shook with intimidation, his usually bright pink cheeks now as lurid as Malfoy's. Harry, however, was livid with rage.  
  
"Here I am, Voldemort..." shouted Harry. "Why don't you just take my life now and leave everyone else alone? Isn't that not what you came here to do?"  
  
Seth smirked as he dried his hands over the sink. "I know not of what you speak. I'm here to take a class to help me come to terms with the amazing powers I've unlocked within my soul."  
  
"Stop playing stupid!" snapped Harry, while Ron continued to shake at his side, terrified. "I've dealt with you in the past, whatever scheme you are planning now won't work!"  
  
"Harry Potter," said Seth calmly, turning toward him and stepping forward. "Yes, I have heard of your strokes of luck against Lord Voldemort in the past,"  
  
"Luck had nothing to do with it!" lied Harry, pulling out his wand as Seth drew closer. Ron, with trembling fingers, reciprocated the action, however dropped his wand just as quickly for his fingers couldn't find a solid grip.  
  
"Sure it did," said Seth, smoothing his sleek, black hair. "First, mommy gives her life to protect you, nearly getting Voldemort killed. Second, mommy's love kills the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor in your first year, and thirdly, you so happened to have the same wand as him, which locked up his spells and allowed you to run away like a rabbit." Seth raised a jeering brow to Harry. "Seems like luck to me."  
  
Harry pointed his wand at Seth threateningly. "Only the Dark Lord or a Deatheater would know what happened that night,"  
  
"Or every single wizard in England who wanted to learn about it," pitched in Seth with a smirk. "It is all a matter of public record if you know the right people."  
  
Harry swallowed a nervous lump in his throat, his wand starting the shake from nerves. Could there even be a small chance that this was not Lord Voldemort? He certainly was not acting like Voldemort, or even Tom Riddle from the Chamber of Secrets. Tom Riddle had been much more meticulous and sinister, realized Harry. Seth seemed to be taking this encounter as Malfoy would, with a painful sarcasm.  
  
"You are coming with me," said Harry finally, with authority. "We are going to see Dumbledore, now. I'm sure you won't mind. Right Ron?"  
  
Ron, who had managed to pick up his wand and hold it up to Seth, (he did not seem to notice he was holding it the wrong way) dropped it again at the mention of his name. Scooping it up quickly, Ron held it toward Seth (albeit he was still holding it the wrong way)  
  
"R - right, Har - Har- Harry," stammered Ron, his hand shaking wildly. "You- Know, err You-Are-Who, you are coming to who, with me, and, um,"  
  
Ron paused to take a deep breath and, as if his own feelings had been sufficiently spoken on the matter, pointed the butt end of his wand at Tom Riddle aggressively forward.  
  
Seth took a step back, his deep dark green eyes gleaming with anticipation. "I am so sorry, Harry Potter, but I have a class to go to. I haven't time to tarry about and pay a visit to the good Headmaster. Now, if you would excuse me,"  
  
Harry pointed his wand again, with confidence inspired by hopelessness. "You can either come willingly or come unwillingly."  
  
"Oh skippy," said Seth crossing his arms. "Are those my choices? Oh, what to do, what to do? I choose, unwillingly."  
  
Seth waved his hand, and a sudden burst of energy struck both Harry and Ron, sending them flying back against the far wall of the bathroom. Ron's wand fell from his hand a third time with a clatter as both boys became airborne. Harry felt his back slam against the wall as all the air in his lungs was expelled with a great heave. The boy who lived, who had undergone so many seconds under the Cruciatus Curse, was not going to be taken down by this simple spell. With all the strength he could muster, he angled his wand toward Seth.  
  
"Stupefy!" rasped Harry as he fell to the ground, reciting a hex he had studied in preparation for the third task last year. A bolt of pink energy emitted from the end of his wand, striking Tom Marvolo Riddle in the chest. The older boy's eyes went wide, and he toppled down upon the floor of the bathroom, quite unconscious.  
  
Ron coughed and wheezed, struggling to his knees. "Harry, you did it!" he exclaimed.  
  
Harry rose from the ground, panting a bit as well. "I, I thought it would be more difficult!"  
  
However, Ron didn't seem to hear him. "Harry, I'm so sorry I didn't believe you. If this is not Lord Voldemort, I'll swallow my wand!"  
  
"No worries," said Harry, grabbing Ron's wand and handing it back to him. "We have to bring him to Dumbledore and tell him."  
  
"Agreed," nodded Ron, still in a tizzy over the recent events. "Morbilicorpus!"  
  
Harry also joined in, helping Ron lift the unconscious body of the older boy. His gray eyes had shut and his face was relaxed in such a way that it seemed extremely peaceful, even happy. Ron opened the door to the bathroom, and Harry pushed out Seth's body.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
The trip to Dumbledore's office was uneventful, as all students were either in classes, in their common rooms, or elsewhere. Seth's body still did not stir as Harry paused by the gray, ornate gargoyle that marked the entrance to the Headmaster's office.  
  
"Lemon Drop!" said Harry.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
"Oh brilliant," muttered Harry, heaving out his chest, feeling rather disheartened. "He's changed the password!"  
  
Ron puffed out his cheeks. "It's always some kind of candy, right?"  
  
"So far," said Harry. "Every Flavored Beans!"  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
"Keep trying," pressed Ron, a sense of urgency written upon his freckled face. "Acid Pops!"  
  
"Chocolate Toffees!" threw in Harry.  
  
After another minute or so, Ron stumbled across the winner by calling out "Chocolate Frogs," with an unenthusiastic tone.  
  
Harry and Ron continued to push up the unconscious Seth, winding up the spiral staircase leading to the tower of Dumbledore's office. After knocking firmly upon the door, they heard the kindly voice of the Headmaster beckoning them in.  
  
With a quick turn of the doorknob, Harry, for the fourth time in his life, entered the amazingly decorated niche that Dumbledore called his own. While it wasn't large, it was as cozy as possible. Exotic items, if not even a bit weird, littered the shelves that marked every bit of wall-space within the office. Fawkes, Dumbledore's pet phoenix, brushed up against Harry's leg as he entered. Upon Dumbledore's desk were two bizarre looking action figures, when dressed in red and the other green, having at each other with swords.  
  
"Come on!" said the venerable Headmaster from behind his desk, staring down at the red action figure, his pale-blue eyes sparkling with amusement. The red figure skewered the green figure, who promptly backed off the sword, bowed to the red figure, and collapsed into a heap. "Yes, yes, good," continued Dumbledore as he looked up to Harry, Ron and the floating body of Seth, as if he had expected this scenario. "Red wins again."  
  
Harry and Ron stared emotionlessly at the Headmaster. It was not out of character for Dumbledore to show extreme calm under pressure, however, Harry had not quite been ready for Dumbledore to show no reaction to Voldemort being brought before him.  
  
"So, what can I do for you three?" asked Dumbledore, perhaps not even realizing Seth was floating and knocked unconscious.  
  
"Um," began Harry. He had not quite prepared himself for this part. How would he explain this to Dumbledore?  
  
"We found this person in the bathroom," explained Harry, nervously. "He, well, doesn't he look like Tom Riddle?"  
  
Ron glanced to Harry. "Tell him everything!"  
  
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, but he held his tongue.  
  
And so, Harry explained everything, from the Sorting Ceremony, Seth's look to him that burned his scar, as well as his dream (yet he still could not bring himself to say that Sean was the massager within his nightmare), and he concluded with the showdown in the bathroom.  
  
Dumbledore frowned slightly, scratching his long, snowy white beard.  
  
"So, you say this boy you have placed under a stunning spell and brought before me, is Lord Voldemort?" asked Dumbledore lightly.  
  
Harry sighed. He had, deep down, suspected that Dumbledore wouldn't quite say: "Oh my gosh, I cannot believe I let Voldemort slip into the castle. Let me kill him for you both."  
  
"I know how this sounds, Professor," said Harry pleadingly.  
  
Ron nodded his head. "Harry's right, Professor. You should have heard him just now, he recited Harry's life story and every one of his encounters with Voldemort verbatim!"  
  
Dumbledore paused in thoughtful consideration, eying Seth wearily. "I am concerned that your scar was hurting you Harry, however, is your only proof that this boy caused it based around the fact he was smiling at you, at the time?"  
  
Harry took a minute to process Dumbledore's words. "Yes, Professor," he said at length, feeling a bit downtrodden.  
  
"Well," said Dumbledore. "Let's wake him up and get his side of the story," he said kindly. He pointed lazily to the boy.  
  
"Ennervate!" said the Headmaster calmly.  
  
Seth's eyes flew wide open as he fell to the ground, no longer under the effect of Harry and Ron's Body Moving Charm. With a grunt, he rose to his feet, dusting himself off indignantly, but before he could speak, Dumbledore fixed him with a very passive look.  
  
"Care to explain your actions, Mr. Redetyor?"  
  
Seth's blinked once, scratching his raven-black hair. "What do you mean, Headmaster?"  
  
"Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley over here, two people I trust very much, have told me about some strange coincidences that have occurred in your presence," said Dumbledore calmly.  
  
"Oh?" asked Seth. "I've had similar experiences in their presence, being threatened and hit with hostile spells comes to mind."  
  
Dumbledore remained completely passive and calm. "Tell me what happened a few minutes ago."  
  
Seth shot a dangerous glare to Ron and Harry.  
  
"I'm over here, Mr. Redetyor," said the old man, a bit sternly.  
  
The Tom Riddle look-alike turned back to Dumbledore. "I was washing my hands after taking a wee and the two all-stars over here come into the bathroom, accuse of being the Dark Lord, draw their wands and threaten that if I don't come with them, they'd make me come. I tried to defuse the situation, but they were quicker, and now I am here, very late for my class."  
  
"Oh, that is such a crock of," snapped Ron agitatedly, but Dumbledore's withered hand stopped the livid boy from speaking.  
  
"That will do, Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore, his voice never rising more than his normal, serene pitch. "Mr. Redetyor, care to explain how you knew about Harry's most recent encounter with Voldemort?"  
  
Seth arched a disdainful brow. "Who doesn't know about it? Harry and the Diggory boy both vanish in the middle of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Harry returns twenty minutes later, with Cedric's body. It was in every major Wizarding newspaper from London to China!"  
  
Dumbledore tapped the tips of his fingers together. "You seemed to be able to recall some rather specific events: Mr. Potter and Voldemort's wands locking together, for example. Who did you tell that to, Harry?"  
  
Harry sighed, for once, feeling good about the meeting. "Only you and, Barty Crouch."  
  
Seth calmly raised his hands into the air.  
  
"Professor, please," said Seth, shaking his head. "It is obvious that these two just hate me because I'm a Slytherin Muggle. So, I knew about the finer details of Harry's fight with Voldemort, what does that say? Nothing. Over thirty people saw it, and any one of them might have told a friend, who told a friend, who wrote a story about it in the paper! Please, come off it. I am just here to learn and don't want to be targeted by these two in their search for revenge."  
  
"You self-important slime!" shouted Ron, drawing a groan from Harry. That's not going to help our case, he thought.  
  
"That will DO!" repeated the Headmaster, his usual calm failing him slightly as he used a bit of emotion on the last word of his sentence. "Mr. Redetyor, ten points will be taken from Slytherin House for such unthoughtful and disrespectful words concerning Mr. Potter and the tragedies he has had to endure. Such discussions are to be conducted between himself and those he holds dear to him, not strangers." Seth nodded slowly. "Forgive me, Professor."  
  
Dumbledore then looked to Harry and Ron. "Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, five points will be taken from Gryffindor House for responding to such a discussion with debilitating force. I expected a more mature reaction from the two of you."  
  
"What?" exclaimed Ron, "But he,"  
  
"Mr. Weasley, don't make me take any more points from your house. Desist this banter, please," said Dumbledore, his voice seeming to be tinged with a bit of disappointment.  
  
Ron sighed and lowered his head.  
  
"Mr. Redetyor and Mr. Weasley, you two may leave. I wish to speak with Mr. Potter a moment longer."  
  
Ron cast a glare full of daggers at Seth as he walked out the door. Seth calmly followed him, looking all too smug to put Harry at ease. The door closed behind the two boys with click.  
  
"Why don't you believe us, Professor?" asked Harry finally, in a very hurt, but civil tone.  
  
Dumbledore also sighed and folded his hands upon his desk, moving aside the two action figures, who had long since ceased their duel.  
  
"Harry," said Dumbledore, his calm voice finally restoring itself. "I do believe you. I believe everything you have said to me this day. I believe Seth is a person who is up to no good; I believe your dream is more than just a coincidence; and I believe when you looked at Seth, your scar erupted with pain."  
  
Harry watched Professor Dumbledore expectantly, knowing he was not finished.  
  
"However, there is one problem with the belief that Seth Redetyor is Lord Voldemort," said Dumbledore.  
  
"What is that?" asked Harry drably.  
  
Dumbledore's air of calm reigned dominate as he leveled with Harry.  
  
"He is my great grandson, Harry." 


	9. Mages and Mayhem

A/N: Would just like to thank all those who reviewed this story on Schnoogle, at FictionAlley.com! You guys inspired me to keep writing and posting my work. I hope you all like this story here as well! Please read and review, it's how I get my kicks after work. If you hate the story or are bored with it, please tell me why. While I love good reviews, I only learn from bad ones.  
  
Chapter 9: Mages and Mayhem  
  
Sean's head was still spinning long after Hermione had said good-bye to him with an awkward wave and half-walked, half-ran to the class she was late for. Having no better ideas, Sean made his way slowly to the Great Hall, finishing his climb down the Gryffindor tower.  
  
Students enjoying a late breakfast sparsely populated the long tables within the great hall. Much of the table that sat House Narhassa was filled with students that Sean recognized from the boat trip across the lake outside of Hogwarts last night. Among these students were Alex, Jessica, as well as the third year boy named Bradley Trahvis, talking to a group of younger children.  
  
Sean noticed that the Gryffindor table was all but empty, with the exception of two nervous first years eating a breakfast alone and sharing a private conversation. Deciding to forgo a lonely breakfast, Sean joined Alex and Jessica at the Narhassa table.  
  
"Sean," said Alex, with a nod in his direction. "Jessica was telling us about Hufflepuff," he said with a humored tone. "If the house is as gay as the name sounds, I'm glad I got sorted into House Narhassa."  
  
Sean did not show much of a reaction as he sat down next to Jessica and across from Alex.  
  
"Hey Jessica," said Sean with a nod. Sean looked down to the table in front of him and thought for a moment.  
  
"Hot Chocolate and Bacon and Eggs," said Sean.  
  
At once, a plate with the desired breakfast appeared in front of him, complete with a mug of steaming, frothy hot chocolate.  
  
Sean smiled brightly as he picked up a slice of bacon between two fingertips.  
  
"Can't beat the speed of service, huh?" he asked jovially.  
  
Jessica smiled weakly to Sean, her expression rather pale. "Looks pretty ravishing. Alex and I already ate."  
  
Sean's gaze hung on Jessica for a moment. She was noticeably a wreck, with her hair tangled wildly and heavy, black bags beneath her eyes. "Are you ok?"  
  
Jessica blinked twice, as if trying to clear away some fatigue. With a composing shift upon her seat, she looked back to Sean. "Yeah, I think so. I did not get much sleep last night."  
  
"Neither did I," said Sean, in between two mouthfuls of eggs. "Strange dreams."  
  
Alex nodded. "I had a rather interesting one myself."  
  
"As did I," agreed Jessica.  
  
The three teenagers all looked at each other with curious expressions. It was Jessica that broke the three way staring contest.  
  
"It was strange," said Jessica. "A large classroom,"  
  
", a huge one," trailed off Alex.  
  
", next to me?" put in Sean.  
  
"Being taught by the best looking guy I've ever seen?" finished Jessica with a dreamy expression. "Looked so much like Harry, only perfect in every meaning of the word."  
  
Alex smirked slightly. "While I wouldn't use such words to describe him, he did seem to be the cool shit."  
  
Sean blinked twice, remembering the horrid visage he had seen in his own dream, the deep red eyes, the gray, sallow face, and the thin, bony limbs without a shred of muscle.  
  
"Huh?" blurted out Sean. "He was the most revolting thing I've ever seen."  
  
"That's so weird," said Alex coolly. "You reacted the same way in my dream. You had stood up to leave the room, and he called you a traitor or something,"  
  
Jessica's mouth dropped. "Same with mine!"  
  
Sean's glittering eyes widened. "It, it was real, then!"  
  
Alex shrugged. "It was just a dream, dumbass. It wasn't real."  
  
"Alex," said Sean quickly, leaning across the sturdy wood table. "Tell me what happened after he tormented me. I woke up.  
  
Alex hummed in consideration. "Well, you vanished, and then, he just continued with the lecture, something about knowing the value of sacrifice for a greater power. I wasn't really listening though. I was busy staring at the sexy fourth year in front of me, what an ass she had on herself."  
  
"I cannot believe we all had the same dream!" said Jessica, with almost a sort of staged exuberance. "Isn't that exciting?"  
  
Sean scratched his chin. "That's one way of putting it. Another would be creepy."  
  
There was a heavy pause in the air as Alex and Jessica exchanged confused looks. Sean was not even sure what he should say to all this. The fact that Alex and Jessica were sharing the same dreams as him made him more nervous than intrigued. That meant his dream must have come from somewhere that wasn't Sean's brain.  
  
The fact that someone could place something within his head and make it so real made him very uneasy.  
  
"Have you two ever heard of Voldemort?" asked Sean at last.  
  
Alex shook his head while Jessica bit her lip tightly. "Why does that name sound familiar?"  
  
"It is the name of the Dark Lord; Harry told me," explained Sean.  
  
Jessica pointed to Sean, extending her index finger. "Harry was telling me about these dreams he used to have about someone named Lord Voldemort. He mentioned them when I told him about some of my earlier dreams a few months ago."  
  
Both Alex and Sean cocked their heads. "What dreams?"  
  
"Well," said Jessica, twiddling her thumbs over the table. "Was it only me, or did you two know about the word Narhassa before coming to Hogwarts."  
  
Sean and Alex both nodded.  
  
"I don't know how, but I did know about it," said Alex with a nod.  
  
Sean took a bite of his bacon. "Ron Weasley said that the Order of Narhassa was some kind of group of wizards that died out nearly eight hundred years ago."  
  
Jessica furrowed her brow. "Yeah, I found that out too. What do you suppose it means?"  
  
Sean finished up his breakfast. "I don't know, but I betcha Hermione Granger can find out."  
  
Alex smirked mischievously. "So, you make your move on her yet?"  
  
Sean flushed slightly. "Sorta."  
  
Jessica smiled slightly, his eyes twinkling. "Are you two formal now?"  
  
"I don't know," said Sean with a nervous shrug. "We'll see."  
  
Alex leaned forward. "You get any?"  
  
"Oh gee," said Sean defensively, rising from the table. "It's time for class!"  
  
"Oh yeah, you got some," said Alex with an evil grin.  
  
Sean face blazed over scarlet. "Don't want to be late for class!"  
  
For some reason, Sean did not want to say that all Hermione did was walk away from him in a very confused manner. Alex always boasted about whom he was with and exactly 'how much' he got. Yet, Sean knew half of his stories were just lies. He did not want to say any lies, but nor did he feel inclined to be totally truthful with Alex.  
  
Jessica picked up the slack and covered Sean's back. "Yeah, I suppose it is that time. You coming, Alex?"  
  
Alex nodded slowly, letting his prying questions die. "Yeah, let's go."  
  
With that, the three Muggles left the Great Hall, trying to find their next class in the veritable maze that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
", so let me get this straight," began Ron, his head cocked as if he had just heard that an ogre had slipped into Dumbledore's office and mugged him for a chocolate bar. "Seth Redetyor, Lord Voldemort in disguise, is really Dumbledore's adopted great grandson?"  
  
Hermione shrugged and looked to Harry.  
  
The Great Hall was slightly crowded as young wizards began to file in for lunch about two hours after Sean, Jessica and Alex had left for their class.  
  
"It appears so," said Harry. "About one hundred and twenty years ago, Dumbledore had two sons, it is strange that he never mentioned them, ever. Anyway, they apparently had families of their own, and their children had families of THEIR own, and one of these families adopted Seth from an orphanage when he was an infant"  
  
"Craziness," said Ron.  
  
"See it reasonably," said Hermione professionally. "There was no way this could have been Voldemort. Dumbledore would never have allowed someone evil to stay in the school!"  
  
Ron eyed Hermione callously. "Right, just in the same way he caught Barty Crouch, oh no, I forget, Crouch infiltrated our school for an entire year. Or, lets not forget Professor Quirrell, who had You-Who-Know in the back of his mind, quite literally, for an entire year. Oh, and how can we forget Dumbledore's master control over the Basilisk that nearly killed ALL OF US!"  
  
Hermione's face drained with color. "No one is perfect, Ron!"  
  
Ron's eyes looked as if they could stone a medusa to death. "Right, no one except Sean, huh?"  
  
"Ok, ok," said Harry "Hermione, Ron, you both are getting a bit out of..."  
  
"Sure, take his side!" fired Hermione  
  
"Sure, take her side!" shot off Ron at the same time.  
  
Harry threw his hands up into the air, as Ron and Hermione began to go at each other like two Hungarian Horntails.  
  
"Sean is twice the man you are!" shouted Hermione, drawing some very strange looks from the other Gryffindors at the table.  
  
"What are you talking about?" roared Ron. "He practically clears my waist!"  
  
"Size doesn't matter!" flamed Hermione.  
  
"Are we still talking about Sean's height?" snapped Ron.  
  
"Oh, sod off!" said Hermione, banging her fists on the table.  
  
Harry looked up to the ceiling of the great hall. As always, an illusion of a clear day greeted his face, with billowing clouds and a bright sun. Harry wanted to be anywhere else right now.  
  
"I didn't realize you got THAT formal with him," continued Ron, lost in his diatribe. "Just tell me that you didn't cast aside the royal robes while in the trick step too!"  
  
"Guys," said Harry. "I'm going to,"  
  
"Stay out of this!" roared both of them at the same time.  
  
"Right," said Harry, giving a weak 'thumbs up'. "I'm going to stay out of this."  
  
With that, Harry stood up and left Ron and Hermione one step away from throwing food at each other. Despite the situation, Harry could not stop laughing as the red carpet rolled itself out for his exit.  
  
What I wouldn't give for a tape recorder that works in Hogwarts, thought Harry. I could laugh myself to sleep listening to those two.  
  
Harry knew Ron and Hermione too well. He knew Ron was in love with Hermione and perhaps Hermione was in love with Ron. That is why they could get into such heated arguments and always preserve their friendship. Often, Harry would muse that they were like a brushfire; all it takes is a spark to get them going, but once the fuel was reduced to ashes, everything would be fine again.  
  
"They are like a brushfire, aren't they?" asked a drawling voice from behind, drawing a great sigh from Harry. "All it takes is a spark,"  
  
"I had the same hypothesis," said Harry, cutting off his arch nemesis and not even bothering to turn around. "What do you want, Malfoy? You are about the last person I want to talk to right now."  
  
Harry heard the steps behind him drawing closer. "Heard what you did to the new guy earlier," the voice of Draco Malfoy said aloofly. Strangely, and perhaps for one of the first times ever, he did not hear the shuffling of Crabbe and Goyle as well.  
  
Nor did Draco sound outright savage.  
  
Harry turned around slowly, looking into Malfoy's gray eyes. Indeed, he was alone.  
  
"The question still stands," said Harry darkly.  
  
Draco's pale face stretched slightly as he crossed his arms. "I want to know what you found out about Redetyor from the Headmaster," said Malfoy in a plain voice.  
  
"Why don't you go ask him," said Harry, starting up the Gryffindor tower stairs. "I got Defense Against the Dark Arts now, bugger off."  
  
"Potter," sneered Malfoy, starting up the stairs. "Don't make me ask again."  
  
"Now, why is it," said Harry, turning around again. ", that I'm completely unafraid of you."  
  
Malfoy's remained grave and stony. Harry instinctively put an uneasy hand to the fold of his robe, preparing to draw his wand should his nemesis make a move. Yet, Malfoy made no sign of moving for his wand.  
  
"Seth Redetyor is Dumbledore's Great Grandson by adoption," said Harry, deciding that Malfoy would just leave quicker if he told him what little he knew, and both of them would avoid a trip to Madam Pomfrey's for de-hexing. "Happy?"  
  
With that, Harry began to walk up the stairs.  
  
"Would it be of any interest to you, Potter, if I told you I knew a thing or two about Order Narhassa," said Malfoy slyly.  
  
This was INDEED of interest to Harry. He turned around slowly, after having ascended only five steps.  
  
"I hate you as much as you hate me," continued Malfoy. "So we will keep this Quid Pro Quo."  
  
Harry glared at Malfoy. "No, I don't think anyone can hate another person in the way you can, Malfoy." Malfoy's evil smirk was all the response Harry needed for that. "Fine, speak and make it quick."  
  
Malfoy locked his arms behind his back. "My father read me some interesting bedtime stories, one that really stuck with me was a group of wizards who gave up their souls for Narhassa."  
  
Harry blinked, his dislike for Malfoy being temporarily alleviated.  
  
"Go on," said Harry firmly.  
  
"What made you attack Seth Redetyor," said Malfoy coolly. "Quid Pro Quo."  
  
Harry sighed away his disdain. "He made my scar hurt in only the way Lord Voldemort can. Tell me more about Narhassa."  
  
Malfoy's voice became pensive. "There is not much more to say, all those who gave up their souls to Narhassa vanished from the Earth about eight- hundred years ago."  
  
"I already know this Malfoy," snapped Harry. "Do you have anything remotely interesting to tell me?"  
  
Malfoy smacked his lips. "Maybe. Tell me more about Seth Redetyor."  
  
Harry glowered at Malfoy. "Why are you so interested in him?"  
  
"That's not your concern, Potter," retorted Malfoy. "Now, I may have an answer that you are looking for and you might have an answer I'm looking for. Do you Gryffindors have any idea when a good deal rolls by, or do you need a price-tag before you get it through your thick skulls?"  
  
Harry crossed his arms. "A price-tag never lies. A Slytherin lowlife like yourself does."  
  
"What's the matter, Potter?" hissed Malfoy with a devilish leer. "Don't you trust me?"  
  
"As far as I can throw you, and twenty feet is hardly enough to trust anyone by," snorted Harry. "Fine, Redetyor also resembles Tom Marvolo Riddle, to the genetic level, I'd gather. I trust your father has given you enough bed time stories about him, seeing as how he still serves him."  
  
Draco tapped a pain finger upon his chin.  
  
"The Order of Narhassa met on the peek of Ben Nevis, where they all gave their souls to Narhassa," said Draco.  
  
Harry looked quite puzzled. "What is Narhassa?"  
  
"Good question," said Draco. "No one knows, since all those who gave them their souls didn't stick around for an interview. Anyway Potter, you've been most helpful, if you find anything else out about Seth Redetyor, let me know. I have more information for you about Narhassa."  
  
"Tell me," demanded Harry.  
  
Draco smirked arrogantly. "You have nothing else to tell me. What would I gain from disclosing the rest of my information to you?"  
  
Harry narrowed his eyes. "You continue to live up to your reputation, you slime."  
  
Draco smirked. "Look whose talking. Go love some Muggles for me."  
  
With that, Malfoy skulked away down the hallway and turned out of sight. Yet, while Harry wanted to feel mad, he could not help but think that Malfoy had just helped him, in exchange for information he would have told anyone for free. Malfoy had given him a solid lead, those of House Narhassa had given up their souls on top of the highest mountain in Scotland, Ben Nevis. But what could they have possibly given up their souls for? What was Narhassa?  
  
Harry mulled this over as he lazily hopped over the trick step and continued up to the Fat Lady.  
  
"Wizard's Chess," said Harry as the portrait swung open. He sped his way up to his dormitory and opened the wooden door without any delay.  
  
I need to tell this all to the one person I know who will take me seriously,  
  
Harry sat down at his desk and quickly drew out some parchment and a quill. Without hesitation, he began to write.  
  
* Dear Sirius,  
  
I haven't heard from you for a long time. I suspect it is because you are so busy with whatever Dumbledore told you that you had to do, rally the old Order of the Phoenix or what have you. I'm sorry to bother you, but something strange is going on at Hogwarts right now. No doubt you've heard of the random mutations in Muggles by now. Hogwarts has opened their doors to these Muggles, adding a new house called House Narhassa. Tom Marvolo Riddle, or a boy who looks amazingly similar to him has infiltrated the school and was sorted as a 6th year Slytherin. Dumbledore says that Seth Redetyor, this Riddle look-alike, is his Great Grandchild by adoption, but I'm still concerned. He made my scar hurt during the Sorting Ceremony. Also, I had a horrible nightmare depicting Volde-,  
  
*  
  
Harry reached for his white out. If there was one person he wanted to hand the whole truth to, it was Sirius Black.  
  
* , a good friend of mine named Sean Camaradi speaking to me about the world trembling in fear because even it knows what is about to happen cannot be stopped. Sean awoke at the same time, talking about a dream he had. Voldemort was speaking to him in a classroom of many, many students. When he tried to leave, he was hit with a Cruciatus Curse. By the expression on his face, I think he had felt that pain. Just now, I ran into Draco Malfoy (I told you about him, the evil kid who will die a virgin) and, in exchange for some info about Redetyor, he told me about the Order of Narhassa, which the new House is named after. 800 years ago, every member climbed to the top of Ben Nevis and sacrificed himself or herself to "Narhassa", whatever that is, be it a belief, a person, or worse.  
  
I cannot tell you how sorry I am to bother you, but I'm stumped and worried. Any information you might have would really help. I hope everything is going well for you.  
  
Affectionately your Godson, Harry  
  
P.S. Ron and Hermione are doing well, fighting daily as usual.  
  
*  
  
Harry lowered his quill, rolled up the parchment. Despite the recent events that were transpiring, he did not want to be late for the first Defense Against the Dark Arts Class, with Professor Lupin. 


	10. Brutal Attacks

A/N: Would just like to thank all those who reviewed this story on Schnoogle, at FictionAlley.com! You guys inspired me to keep writing and posting my work. I hope you all like this story here as well! Please read and review, it's how I get my kicks after work. If you hate the story or are bored with it, please tell me why. While I love good reviews, I only learn from bad ones.  
  
Chapter 10: Brutal Attacks  
  
After visiting Hedwig, who seemed more than thrilled at the prospect of delivering a letter to Sirius, Harry raced into his Defense Against the Dark Arts Class a few minutes late, causing every head to turn to him. Lupin looked up at Harry stoically, but a kind smile was hinting at his lips.  
  
"Nice of you to join us, Harry," he said with a joking pitch to his voice. "Please, sit down."  
  
"Sorry, Professor," panted Harry as he mopped the sweat off his brow. He looked around for Hermione and Ron, but sighed when he found each of them sitting across the room, from each other, looking exceptionally grave.  
  
I can't go sit with one or the other, realized Harry. That'll make the one I don't choose angry. Why do I always get stuck in the middle! So, Harry went right down the middle of the classroom and sat next to Neville and Seamus who both nodded cordially to him. This Defense Against the Dark Arts room seemed exceptionally cold. It was extremely dark with a single torch casting and animating shadows all around them room.  
  
"As I was saying," says Lupin, taking his eyes off Harry. "This year, we will be focusing more on counter curses than we have in the past. I have, with Professor Dumbledore's permission, been instructed to use many Dark Arts spells upon you. I have been told you had a rudimentary understanding of resisting the Unforgivable Curses from your lessons with Barty Crouch last year," he trailed off looking to the class expectantly.  
  
Everyone in the class nodded, though Harry lowered his head. He did not wish to be reminded of Bartleby Crouch.  
  
"We will begin today with something a bit more unorthodox than what you are used to," continued Professor Lupin. "I will not be handing out a syllabus. Instead, we are going to dive right in and practice some counter hexes that you all might find rather useful in the times to come."  
  
"What do you suppose we are doing?" whispered Seamus.  
  
Neville shrugged while Harry scratched his chin.  
  
"First," said Lupin, as he stood before the class, dressed in seemingly his worst. "I will need two volunteers."  
  
Nearly the entire class raised their hands.  
  
"Ron," said Professor Lupin, nodding his head to Ron's hand. He then turned across the room. "And Hermione." While both of Harry's friends had their hands up, their faces paled. Hermione's hand tried to shoot down after she heard Ron's name, but it was no use.  
  
"Oh, this'll be good," said Seamus with a knowing grin. "They were stirring up a hornet's nest today during lunch hour."  
  
Neville looked at Seamus quizzically. "When aren't they stirring up something?"  
  
Harry watched with mixed emotions as Ron and Hermione both rose unsteadily, from opposite sides of the classroom and made their way to the front of the very dark classroom. Harry could see them both lock eyes for a moment and look violently away to Lupin, who appeared to be the only one not to notice their hesitance. The entire class held their breath.  
  
"Think they'll blow up the classroom?" asked Dean, whispering to the three of them from a row of desks behind.  
  
Seamus puffed out his cheeks with stress. "I'm taking no chances. At the first sign of trouble, I'm bolting out the door."  
  
"I've got your back, mate," said Dean haphazardly. "I'd rather face some of Hagrid's more interesting monsters than get in the way of a Ron- Hermione fight!"  
  
Harry looked back to Dean, and then looked to Seamus. "Come on, it's not like they are going to be blasting each other across the room or something."  
  
Lupin looked to Hermione and Ron. "Very well then, have at each other. Try a few light curses. I will be showing you the proper counter cur,"  
  
"I stand corrected," said Harry with dignity. "Duck,"  
  
Harry's eyes widened, as Seamus looked at him with a yes-it-feels-good-to- be-right-thanks-for-asking expression. They barely had time to slouch in their seats before Professor Lupin was cut off. Ron and Hermione, both with a maddened look of ecstasy, drew their wands and began screaming,  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Good god!" said Lupin, his wand raised, rushing behind the floating forms of Ron and Hermione. Ron's ears flopped all the way to the ground, while Hermione's feet dragged behind her, swelled up to the size of small mattresses. Each had about a dozen other easily countable deformities in their faces. Parvati Patil, looking completely flabbergasted, carried one of Hermione's arms, the product of a successful Dislocating Charm.  
  
"I know you, Ron and Hermione consider yourselves advanced students," continued Lupin, as Harry rushed after him, followed by all of the Gryffindor fifth years, "but these are not exactly what I meant by light curses!"  
  
They rushed up a flight of ornate, stone steps, heading for Madam Pomfrey's office. Harry sighed as he kept pace. "If I didn't think they hated each other at the moment, I'd call it a lover's quarrel."  
  
"Well, it's some kind of quarrel!" snapped Lupin, looking at Hermione's unconscious, floating from ahead of him. "She's loosing her hair! My goodness!" Ron had apparently slung over a Molting Hex, for Hermione's hair was falling out strand by strand.  
  
"I don't think Ron's going to be happy either," said Seamus helpfully from behind. "Among that jumble, I distinctly heard the words to a Shriveling Hex."  
  
"Golly," said Dean dumbly. "She really hit him below the belt, didn't she?"  
  
Harry sighed and shook his head. "That's one way of putting it."  
  
Neville blinked with naiveté. "But, he doesn't look like he's shriveling,"  
  
"Think it though, Neville," said Harry dourly.  
  
The round-faced boy paused in consideration, and, after about five seconds, dropped his jaw. "Oh, oh," said Neville, his mouth agape in a shapely "O"  
  
Harry and Seamus both nodded their heads in syncopation. "Yeah."  
  
Parvati huffed indignantly, holding Hermione's arm over her shoulder. "He's lucky she didn't decide to try THIS spell on him instead!" she huffed, holding out Hermione's arm agitatedly.  
  
"OW!" gasped all the Gryffindor boys.  
  
"Don't joke about that!" spluttered Seamus. "It hurts just thinking about it!" They continued to move hastily through the empty halls of Hogwarts, their footfalls echoing off of the spacious architecture.  
  
"What happened to make them so upset with each other?" asked Lupin, looking to Harry. "I've never seen you three so, dispersed."  
  
"It's just, one of my friends. Hermione and him MAYBE kissed, and Ron ALMOST caught them,"  
  
Lupin winced. "Ouch, teenager stuff. Hormones and hexes don't mix."  
  
Harry managed to crack a slight smirk at that.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
A few hours and a Transfiguration as well as a Magical History class later, Sean and Harry both made their way to the Great Hall.  
  
"It's amazingly cool that a ghost teaches our history class!" said Sean with wide-eyed astonishment.  
  
Harry, who did not want to admit he had fallen asleep, for it might spoil Sean's mood, nodded. Professor Binns was about the only teacher at Hogwarts who was, without pun intended, dead boring. By far Harry's worst class, History of Magic could not be made drabber if it were taught by videotape. In the past, Harry had to struggle to stay awake during his exams, let alone pass them.  
  
"Trust me, Sean," said Harry with a knowing smirk. "Once that initial effect wears off, you'll find yourself begging for a Killing Curse simply to escape the ungodly confines of that classroom."  
  
Sean scratched the top of his ruddy head. "I got that impression after he started talking about those Dementor things, they must be the most boring creatures alive."  
  
Harry could never have thought that Dementors, cast in ANY light, could appear dull and boring. Those terrifying horrors that nearly stole Harry's soul in his third year were made out to be as lame as a shoe salesman in London in Professor Binns' class. Harry and Ron entered the bustling Great Hall. Seamus and Dean where nowhere to be seen, but Neville was sitting down, talking to Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister.  
  
"Alright, Ginny," said Harry as Sean followed him over, "and Neville."  
  
Neville looked up to Harry, looking a bit worn and upset. "Hey," he said weakly.  
  
The young, red-haired girl looked up to Harry. "How's Ron doing?"  
  
Harry sat down as Sean soundlessly sat across from him, next to Ginny.  
  
"Pork and gravy, and mashed potatoes," said Harry lazily, as his dinner appeared in front of him. He took his fork into one hand and began prodding at his dinner. "I think he'll be ok, Ginny," said Harry, churning his meal about on his plate.  
  
Sean looked at Harry with a concerned twinkle in his eyes. "It hurts you to see Ron and Hermione so angry at each other."  
  
Harry sighed. "Pumpkin Juice," he said. Without delay, a cup of juice appeared in front of him with a magical pop. He took the cup half-heartedly and brought it to his lips. Sean was right, he thought. It was so upsetting when their triangle of love was disrupted. Bar none, the worst time Harry had to serve on the planet was for the few weeks that Ron had not spoken to him during their fourth year. That time, even with Hermione keeping him company, was worse than all his years with the Durselys put together.  
  
With a simple nod, Harry took a sip of the juice, feeling no refreshment. "I just don't know if they'll patch this one up," said Harry into his cup.  
  
Sean lowered his head. "It's all my fault."  
  
"No," stated Harry crisply, lowering the cup from his mouth. "If anyone is innocent, it is you."  
  
Suddenly, Harry felt two arms grab around the back of his neck and hug his head gently. Feeling better almost immediately, he rested his palm upon one of the hands on his collar.  
  
"If this is Malfoy, I'm going to be very upset," said Harry with a relieved tone.  
  
"Oh," cooed Jessica's voice softly as she sat down next to him in an empty chair, removing her hands from his neck delicately. "I'm so sorry to disappoint you."  
  
Just being around Jessica put all thoughts of Ron and Hermione on a distant cloud. It was a relief, for since his Defense Against the Dark Arts class, he wanted nothing more than to not think about his two best friends. He put his arm around her and could not keep a smile from his lips.  
  
"How was your first day?" he asked softly.  
  
Jessica shrugged under Harry's arm. "Sean, did you tell him about our phenomena class?"  
  
Sean shook his head slowly. "I was going to. Go ahead."  
  
Ginny and Neville dropped their conversation to listen carefully.  
  
"It's enlightening, but, I don't know exactly," continued Jessica. "Dumbledore teaches it." Harry, Neville and Ginny all raised a brow.  
  
"Really?" asked the young redheaded girl.  
  
"I wonder how he finds the time," said Neville.  
  
Harry, however, could not help but smile. "He gets bored in his office. I'm sure he was delighted to teach again. Blimey, he gets so restless that he plays with action figures."  
  
Jessica and Sean both smirked. "Well, I assure you, he kept our attention for three hours," said Jessica.  
  
Sean nodded. "He seemed so interested in getting to know all of us," stated Sean. "I think basically everyone in House Narhassa was there. That's pretty much all we did the first day, talk about who we are."  
  
"And what our new gifts mean to us," put in Jessica. "I really like Dumbledore."  
  
Harry nodded as he continued to labor over his dinner. A few minutes later, conversation seemed to cease as Harry finished up his meal. "I'm going to go visit Hermione and Ron," said Harry. "Sean, you want to come?"  
  
Sean raised his hands and shook his head. "No way, Harry. If I show up, Ron will try to throw me out the window, Hermione will try to stop him, and they'll wind up wearing each other's clothing, loosing more appendages and perhaps rearranging each other's faces again."  
  
Harry shook his head. "Trust me here. Your presence will only help."  
  
Sean shrugged and rose from his seat across from Harry. "If you say so, dude."  
  
"Hey," said Jessica with a smirk. "Care to meet me in the Astronomy Tower a bit later? I hear Saturn is going to be very bright tonight."  
  
Neville blinked. "Hey, you don't take Astono, muffphmufffph."  
  
Harry slapped his hand over Neville's mouth. "Sure, Jessica. I'll meet you there later tonight. Say nine?"  
  
Ginny seemed to flush scarlet and fixed her eyes upon her plate, while Neville finally took a hint and fell silent.  
  
"Nine would be great," said Jessica, with a bright smile.  
  
"I needn't remind you that curfew says that at sundown no one is to leave their Common Rooms," said Ginny snappishly, for the first time Harry ever remembered, sounding like Hermione.  
  
Harry snapped his fingers. "Oh right, I'll meet you outside House Narhassa's Common Room at nine."  
  
"It's a date then," said Jessica.  
  
Ginny jabbed at her food furiously.  
  
Harry and Sean both left, not really taking notice of Ginny's strange behavior and her near mutilation of her salad.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Look Ron," Hermione began, fiddling awkwardly with a wavy lock of hair, "I'm really sorry for, shrinking you."  
  
Ron sighed. Both Hermione and Ron were within Madam Pomfrey's hospital, resting up after their war. She had been able to repair most of the damage they had done to each other, and reattach Hermione's arm. They were laying in beds next to each other. Hermione was propped up on one arm, looking at Ron with her lovely brown eyes.  
  
"Yeah," muttered Ron quietly. "I'm sorry for nearly making all your hair fall out, and detaching your arm." He looked over at Hermione, not bothering to sit up.  
  
Hermione laughed slightly. "That was strange. I didn't know you know the Dislocation Charm. It's funny, cause I didn't even realize it was gone before I went unconscious."  
  
Ron smiled slightly. "Fred and George made sure I learned it, they've hidden Percy's legs so many times. He really gets annoyed at that."  
  
Hermione's eyes widened with amusement. "You don't say?"  
  
"And Herm," said Ron quietly. "I'm sorry about, the whole Sean thing."  
  
Hermione fell respectfully silent.  
  
"He really is a good kid and I haven't given him much of a chance. I think he deserves you."  
  
Hermione sat up slowly. "Do you really mean that, Ron?"  
  
Ron looked at Hermione, feeling miserable about the entire situation. Harry was right before. He had become Draco Malfoy for a short while, not giving Sean a chance because Sean was after the same person he was.  
  
"Yeah," said Ron dejectedly. He remembered the line Harry said to start with, and figured now it was time. "I'm sorry for being a jealous git."  
  
Hermione slowly stood up and made her way to Ron's bedside. "No, you aren't. You are a great person, and I love you very much."  
  
She was dressed in thin hospital pajamas that seemed to stick to her skin. The sight made Ron's swallow a nervous lump in his throat. He could not remember a time where he saw Hermione so "up close," wearing so little.  
  
"I love you too, Hermione," said Ron, without much hesitation. "I've wanted to tell you that for a really long time."  
  
Hermione smiled and sat down upon Ron's bed.  
  
"I know," she said kindly. "You are bad at hiding your feelings."  
  
Ron returned Hermione's smile with a weak one of his own. "I guess so."  
  
Hermione delicately ran her hand on Ron's chest. He was wearing the same thin hospital pajamas as Hermione that provided him no protection from her soft fingers. The sensation of Hermione's hand touching him this way was one of the most arousing feelings he had ever experienced. He looked up at her face with earnest confusion.  
  
"Hermione," he began, trembling with passion.  
  
"Don't say anything," she said, delicately putting her finger over his lips and draping herself over him. "I've wanted to do this for such a long time too,"  
  
Ron was about to protest, but Hermione's body on top of his was the final straw. Every part of him tingled with anticipation and shook uncontrollably. He had never been in this position before with any female, let alone Hermione, the girl of his dreams.  
  
Without thinking, he took Hermione's hand from his lips, closed his eyes, and kissed it with great affection.  
  
He felt her rubbing the back of her hand upon his cheek. He opened his eyes again. Her face was just inches from his.  
  
"Are you sure," quavered Ron, his voice a quiet impassioned shutter.  
  
Ron was vaguely aware of her hand, interlocked with his and squeezing gently. Her second hand moved over his cheek, touched his lips, sending tingling sensations all over his body.  
  
"I've been sure for so long," she whispered to him.  
  
Hermione lowered her head slowly retracting her hands from his lips and caressing his face. She closed the remaining distance between them. Ron's body reacted before his mind even had a chance to catch up. He leaned into Hermione's face, pressing his lips gently against hers.  
  
And then, time froze.  
  
His face drained with color as passion rushed over his body like a flooding deluge. It dawned on him that this was his first kiss; the first time his lips had touched those of another human being. It was a warm and sweet taste as he opened his mouth. Ron closed his eyes, consumed by his own lust, and threw his arms around Hermione. He became vaguely aware of her hand, stroking his face as they kissed passionately. Every single problem within his mind melted away, he could die happy right now.  
  
"Ron," whispered a voice.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
And then Ron opened his eyes. In place of Hermione laying ontop of him, Harry and Sean were standing at the flank of the bed. Ron was still shaking all over and felt his body aching all over with excitement.  
  
"How you doing?" asked Harry, with a bit of amusement on his face. "I see most of you got reattached."  
  
Sean was looking down on Ron with a bit of a smirk, yet he said nothing.  
  
Ron, still horribly confused, blinked. "Where's Hermione?" he asked.  
  
Harry and Sean both nodded their heads across the room. Ron turned his head over in their direction. Hermione was fast asleep, her hair billowing upon her pillow, with a very satisfied look upon her face.  
  
"Were you having a nightmare?" asked Sean, with a wide-eyed expression. "You were practically wreathing on the bed."  
  
Ron swallowed, his disappointment becoming so completely paralyzing. It had been a dream, he thought. He stared at Hermione with none of the loathing he had felt for her throughout the entire day. All he could feel toward her was complete love. It nagged at his soul so strongly that he felt like a Dementor was trying to steal it. He sighed again and swallowed a lump in his throat.  
  
"Yeah, nightmare," said Ron, his voice barely more than a whine.  
  
Sean followed Ron's expression, traced the path of his eyes, looked upon Hermione, and backed up a step. Ron looked back to Sean, his ears swelling with blood. There was a look upon the boy's face that made Ron feel so uncomfortable. It was a look that he had only seen Harry give him during his times of trouble.  
  
Sean's eyes were glinting and twinkling with understanding. Somehow, he figured out everything, though in truth, was his desire for Hermione a subtle thing?  
  
"What were you two thinking today?" demanded Harry, his face, in sharp contrast to Sean's, grave with concern.  
  
Ron sighed and mopped the sweat off his forehead. "It was stupid," he said. "I don't know what came over me."  
  
"Neither do I," said Harry with a sigh. "Can you give Hermione a message for me. When she wakes up, tell her I've wrote Sirius Black about Narhassa. If she can hit the library in her spare time and dig up all she knows about Ben Nevis, I'd be greatly appreciative."  
  
"Ben Nevis?" asked Ron. "Well, it's the highest mountain in Scotland. What's that got to do with anything."  
  
Harry shrugged. "Something, or nothing. I don't know. Hermione will be the quickest among us to find out, though."  
  
"You don't need me to ask her," said Ron with a slight smirk. "She needs to go to the library to get a hit of books, or she'll loose her mind. She's quite addicted."  
  
Harry also smirked and pat Ron on the shoulder. "Get better man, will ya?" With that, he turned to go. Sean stoically made a move to follow.  
  
"Sean," began Ron.  
  
Sean turned back to him, a joyous smile on his face. "You don't know what it means to me to hear you say that. Thank you."  
  
Ron's jaw dropped and his brows arched in confusion. "Eh, what?"  
  
Sean's expression remained as bright as the daylight. "You were about to apologize for not giving me a chance. Thank you very much, Ron. You're a great guy."  
  
Ron blinked as he stretched his jaw awkwardly. "I was just going to say,"  
  
Harry also was smiling at the scene. "All you have to do is nod your head and say 'your welcome,'"  
  
Taking Harry's advice, Ron nodded his head begrudgingly. "Your welcome." Ron managed to crack a slight smile, though his eyes showed his hesitation clearly. "And another thing, Sean,"  
  
Sean chuckled merrily. "I cannot let you do that. She'll decide for herself when she's ready."  
  
Ron's face swelled up. "How the heck do you do that!"  
  
"Long story," said Sean with a wink. "Anyway,"  
  
Sean was interrupted by the sound of a door slamming open from behind them. Hermione awoke with a start as Ron, Sean and Harry spun around. Ron's mouth dropped at the sight.  
  
Severus Snape was half-escorting, half-dragging a boy who was bleeding profusely all over the floor. The sallow man seemed ghostly pale as his greasy hair was lined with sweat. The boy's head lolled from side to side, his gray eyes fluttering and his pale blonde hair marred with blood.  
  
"BLIMEY!" shouted Harry, leaping out of Snape's way.  
  
Ron cleared his eyes. "What happened?"  
  
"POMFREY!" called out Snape emphatically.  
  
Without any delay, the light in Madam Pomfrey's private quarters flipped on, and out rushed the plump nurse. Upon seeing the boy being supported by Snape, she gasped.  
  
"Dear gods! What happened?"  
  
Snape snarled. "I found them outside, next to his two friends. They are coming in now."  
  
Ron could barely make out the boy being supported by Snape, but a moment later, two more hulking forms were escorted in by three students apiece. It appeared the Colin Creevey, Dennis Creevey and a fourth year Ravenclaw boy Ron recognized were dragging in a simply huge guy, followed by three sixth year Hufflepuff students, escorting a second one.  
  
Without wasting any time, the three bleeding forms were thrown into the remaining beds, next to Hermione, who watched with pale-faced horror. Pomfrey had gone to work immediately, waving her wand frantically.  
  
"I do not know what happened," said Snape, his voice tinged with urgency as he hovered over Pomfrey's shoulders. "Someone beat the mercy out of them, though."  
  
"Severus," she said sternly, in a deceptively calm voice. "I will need three Clotting Potions posthaste. We may very well loose these boys without them... a Hemophilia Curse has been placed on each of them. They will not stop bleeding until they are dead. You brewed them up like I asked at the beginning of the year, correct?"  
  
Snape swallowed a lump in his throat as the tension in the room threatened to extinguish the breath from each of them. "Of course."  
  
Without another word, Snape sped out of the room, his robe whipping behind him.  
  
Ron rubbed his eyes as Harry and Sean were simply stunned by the scene. "My god," Ron asked weakly. ", that's Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, isn't it?"  
  
All Harry could do with nod feebly, his face as pale as a ghost.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Sorry, I could not resist that Hermione/Ron tease there. I'm sure it caused a few eyes to be rolled, but I assure you, no Weasleys were irreparably damaged during the process.  
  
Next Chapter - Harry meets with Jessica with plans of heading to the Astronomy Tower, (yum yum) Ron and Sean have finally patched things up, but will it last as the Hermione chase begins? , and who or what so brutally attacked Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, stay tuned. 


	11. The Plot REALLY Thickens

A/N: Would just like to thank all those who reviewed this story on Schnoogle, at FictionAlley.com! You guys inspired me to keep writing and posting my work. I hope you all like this story here as well! Please read and review, it's how I get my kicks after work. If you hate the story or are bored with it, please tell me why. While I love good reviews, I only learn from bad ones.  
  
Chapter 11: The Plot REALLY Thickens  
  
"Hey," exclaimed the fat lady indignantly as Harry pushed her passed her eight forty-five that night. "Who's that? There is a curfew!" Harry, draped in his invisibility cloak, did not respond as he slowly made his way down the stairs.  
  
Hogwarts took on a spooky, perhaps even sinister look at night. The only light available to him was an off torch that burned every few dozen yards. These torches never extinguished themselves, powered by the magic of the house elves. The flicking tongues of fires cast shadows all over the halls, swirling and churning the darkness like the flaps of a dementor's robes. While Harry was not exactly a rookie to creeping around after hours, this time in particular, he almost regretted it.  
  
In truth, he was not sure where the Hufflepuff Common Room lay. Only one time before had he ever been to another House's common room, and that had been quite a lengthy task to find, even with help.  
  
Harry had neared the Great Hall, feeling rather lost. He began to recall his memories of all the Hufflepuff students in the past that he knew well. "Where did they go after their classes?"  
  
Harry thought about Justin Finch-Fletchly, the boy everyone had accused Harry of petrifying in his second year, but he had never been a close friend with him. He then considered Hannah Abbot and Ernie Macmillan from his Herbology class, though he had never remembered catching a glimpse in the direction they went after that class, it was not something he looked for.  
  
And finally, the memory of Cedric Diggory popped in his head. At first, he wanted to dismiss it entirely, for this was not the time to feel guilt and shame. Yet, he could not help but ponder on it for a moment. He remembered meeting Cedric for the first time off the Quiddich field, telling him about the dragons in between his classes. Cedric then returned the favor one night, before heading up to his Common Room.  
  
At that, Harry's eyes widened. "Heading up to his Common Room," he thought. With that, Harry hustled through the corridors and tried his best to recall the exact spot where Cedric had given Harry the clue about the golden egg last year. It was surprising that the memory was so vivid within his head, for he found the exact spot quickly.  
  
In the shadows, it seemed to be little more than an unremarkable corridor, however, Harry quickly found what he was looking for. A few paces down the hall, a staircase seemed to crawl out of the darkness, the same one Cedric had started up.  
  
It must be close, thought Harry as he climbed up the stairwell. He knew from his experience with the Polyjuice Potion that the door to the Slytherin common room was nothing more than a perfectly unremarkable wall. A portrait, a completely bizarre one at that, hid the Gryffindor common room. What would the Hufflepuff common room be concealed by?  
  
With a huff, Harry glide down the hallway, pulling his invisibility cloak tighter to his body. The hallway was decorated with pictures of kindly old friars sleeping, statues of humble looking men, as well as a huge picture of a badger, who was gnawing at a tree within his picture tirelessly.  
  
"Ah.. this must be it," thought Harry.  
  
"Hmm," said the badger, stopping his work and sniffing the air delicately. "I smell a Gryffindor." The badger looked directly at him. Its voice was soft and high-pitched, with an energetic flare. "Oh, must be an invisibility cloak, cause I can't see you."  
  
Harry sighed. There was no way he would be getting into the Hufflepuff Common Room without talking to it.  
  
"Yeah, ok, you got me," said Harry, removing the hood from his robe and exposing his disembodied head.  
  
The badger extended a claw upon one of his forepaws and shook it naughtily in Harry's direction.  
  
"You know there's a strict curfew, young Gryffindor," said the badger with a lofty voice. "It's for your safety, you know."  
  
Harry frowned slightly. "Look, I'm meeting someone in the Hufflepuff common room. Can you let me in?"  
  
The badger shook his head. "You look old enough to know the rules. Only Gryffindors in the Gryffindor common room; only Hufflepuffs in the Hufflepuff common room. Funny how that works, eh?"  
  
With a grunt, Harry removed the rest of his Invisibility Cloak. "Can you JUST let me PEEK my HEAD in, she's probably waiting on the other side."  
  
The badger smirked, showing a few small, yet sharp teeth. "How do I know you won't just run in if I do that?"  
  
Harry sighed with impatience. "I'm not a Slytherin, I give you my word."  
  
The badger rolled his eyes, and put a claw to his lips in consideration. "Errr, well, ok. In fact, you better come in. If something happened to you out here while I didn't let you in, I'd never forgive myself."  
  
This earned the badger a strange look from Harry. "No password?"  
  
The badger shook his head. "What's the need for one? I know all the children in my house by name and face, and smell. I just let them in."  
  
Harry had often wondered why the Fat Lady always locked Neville out, even though she knew that he was supposed to be there.  
  
"Isn't that a little dangerous?" asked Harry. "Wizard spells,"  
  
The badger chuckled. "Badgers have a sixth sense when it comes to magic. If someone tried to use magic to get in here, I'd smell it from a mile away. How do you think I knew you were coming? I mean, you don't smell THAT bad. I've caught traces of your smell off of a young girl who was recently placed into this house. What is your name, boy?"  
  
"Harry," he replied. "Harry Potter."  
  
"Oh!" said the badger, huffing out his chest. "You are the Heir of Slytherin. I remember some of my kids talking to me about that a few years back."  
  
A sour look came to Harry's face. "Yes, I am, thanks for reminding me."  
  
"Anyway," said the badger waving his paw. "I can smell that you want to end this conversation. I haven't spoken with a Gryffindor in nearly fifty years. Most of my kids love to spend some time chatting with me. The Fat Friar and myself love to talk about their problems, it usually helps. But you Gryffindors, as I recall, are always so stubborn: 'shouldering the world's burden' and all."  
  
Harry nodded slowly. "The story of my life. Anyway, nice talking to you, um?"  
  
The badger leaned up against his tree with a knowing smirk. "Just call me Badge."  
  
"Right," said Harry. "I won't forget."  
  
The portrait of the badger slid open, admitting Harry. To his surprise, a slight mist rolled out from behind the picture, and sunlight flashed so loudly into Harry's eyes, that he needed to shield them with his hands. Harry took his bold first steps into the Hufflepuff common room.  
  
Nothing could have prepared Harry for the sight.  
  
A low mist had already poured out into the hallway, passing Harry's shins. The room itself was bathed in sunlight from a golden, enchanted ceiling. All around the room, vines hugged the walls and plants of gorgeous yellow, green, lavender and rosy red filled much of the round, mahogany tables. Harry's feet went from hard stone to soft grass as he entered. His ears were filled with the sound of rushing water, as he spied a waterfall seeping from a corner of the room and bubbling gracefully into a large fountain with a statue of a badger within.  
  
Hufflepuff students lay calmly on the grass, talking and reading. Golden picnic tables were neatly lined up around the room, from which other students played games or studied in silence. The very nature of this room brought Harry into an unbelievable peace.  
  
"No fair," was the first thought that came to his mind. "They get to live, here?"  
  
Harry walked calmly into the room, as a rush of breeze tickled his face. At once, he spied Justin, with Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbot laying on the grassy ground and talking softly. Hannah noticed Harry, and her eyes widened. She stopped Justin from speaking and pointed. With a sudden gasp, Harry remembered that he had forgotten to reequip his Invisibility Cloak.  
  
"Harry?" asked Ernie, his voice alarmed. "What are you doing here? This is the Hufflepuff common room! You can't be here!"  
  
Yet, Harry could not bring himself to be terribly alarmed. "It sure is," he replied dreamily. For the first time in his life, Harry almost regretted NOT being sorted into Hufflepuff.  
  
"It's ok, Ernie," said Justin calmly. "Jessica told me he'd be coming."  
  
Hannah looked at Justin disapprovingly. "Hey, nothing against Harry, but he is a Gryffindor. You are talking your prefect job much too lightly. He's breaking the rules."  
  
"Fine," said Justin, curling a tress of his golden hair. "Harry, one point will be taken from Gryffindor," he said lazily. He then looked to Hannah. "Happy?"  
  
Harry smirked. He lost more points in an average Potions class.  
  
Hannah pouted slightly. "Well, no, I didn't mean that. Oh fine, since you are setting me up to be a nosy porker here, just let him stay."  
  
Justin smiled, crawled over and pecked Hannah on the cheek. "Good."  
  
Hannah blushed as Justin turned back to Harry, who was still stunned rather silly by the sheer beauty of the Hufflepuff common, garden.  
  
"Come join us, Harry," said Justin. "Jessica's not feeling too well, so she retired early."  
  
Harry was finally brought back to his senses. "Is she alright?" he asked as he drew near to the three Hufflepuff students, lying down on the grass.  
  
"Yeah," said Ernie with a shrug. "I trust the first day sort of overwhelmed her."  
  
Harry nodded, still totally exhilarated about being in such a lovely place.  
  
"It is something, isn't it?" asked Hannah, smiling at Harry's look of wide- eyed astonishment. She looked over to the large fountain in the corner of the room, with water streaming down gently. "I still can't get over it, and its been five years."  
  
Harry puffed out his cheeks. "Well, now I know why you Hufflepuffs are so good at Herbology."  
  
Justin nodded. "Yeah, we all take turns caring for the plants, cutting the grass and cleaning the fountain," he said. "Part of the whole 'hard- working' 'all for one' thing."  
  
"We even have a swimming pool a bit further in," chipped in Ernie, pointing to a closed door along the shining walls. "Also, a part of the 'hard- working' thing is the 'extreme partying after finishing' thing."  
  
This is JUST not FAIR, decided Harry.  
  
"You guys should see the Slytherin common room," said Harry offhandedly. "It's a prison cell."  
  
Justin laughed at that. "How many common rooms have you been in?"  
  
"All but Ravenclaw," said Harry, with consideration. Finally, he decided to sit down in the grass. "And Narhassa."  
  
The three Hufflepuff stared at Harry with a mixture of hesitation and confusion.  
  
"I do not like that Narhassa lot," said Hannah with a nervous tone to her voice. "Especially the Americans, about half of them come from America, did you know?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "Sean, the guy sorted in our house, is a really nice kid."  
  
"I don't have any problem with Americans," said Justin with a shrug. "But, yes, I do recall the first one I met. I guess he is a friend of yours, Harry. He was just looking for any reason to try and rip my head off."  
  
"Well," replied Harry, remembering the brief exchange between Justin and Alex. "That guy is a jerk. He hates me too. But he also hates Malfoy, anyone who hates Malfoy can't be all bad."  
  
The Hufflepuffs, instead of chuckling, suddenly paled.  
  
"You hear what happened to him?" asked Ernie, his voice dropping to a whisper.  
  
Harry's mind snapped like a whip cracked against it. He had all but forgotten about Malfoy with his desire to see Jessica, his conversation with Badge and his entrance into this paradise. Yet now, he was reminded of that terrible, yet simply stunning mystery.  
  
Harry nodded. "Not to sound heartless, but I'm sure Malfoy had it coming,"  
  
Justin shook his head disapprovingly. "He was hit with some very powerful spells, no student could have done that, and no professor would have. I bet Malfoy was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."  
  
"Who knows what all those Narhassa students are capable of," scolded Hannah. "I hear they have amazing magical potential. I bet it was one of them, what if it was that kid you were talking about?"  
  
Harry's eyebrows arched. "Alex?"  
  
Justin considered that for a moment. "Yeah, you said he hated Malfoy, and I wouldn't put it past him to harm someone. I saw what happened that day in Diagon Alley, when Malfoy and him fought. Maybe he was getting revenge against them."  
  
Clouds immediately rushed into Harry's mind, darkening his mood.  
  
"That makes so much sense that it scares me," said Harry aghast. With a sigh, Harry stood up. He did not want to speak about this anymore to anyone that wasn't named Ron or Hermione. "Anyway, it was great talking to you. I'm going to make sure Jessica's feeling ok."  
  
Justin also stood up slowly. "Sorry, Harry," he said hesitantly. "She told me to apologize on her behalf and send you away."  
  
Harry's mood darkened even further. "She said that?" he asked in a remote voice.  
  
"Afraid so," he said calmly. "If you want to spend the night down here and see her in the morning, that's fine. It's better than you walking the halls at night. If something happened to you on the way back, I'd never forgive myself for sending you away."  
  
And that seemed to make a dent in Harry's dim cheer.  
  
"Though, don't make a habit of coming here," added Justin in a firm tone. "Especially after hours. We allow the occasional Gryffindor/Ravenclaw guest into the room, but we also swear them to secrecy. Our common room is a secret well kept for nearly a thousand years because we only allow people in that we trust. You can't go telling everyone, or word will get out, and we will have students from every house trying to sneak in."  
  
Harry nodded. "I understand. I won't tell anyone."  
  
Ernie clapped Harry on the back as he rose. "There's a good lad," he said jovially. "Though, tell anyone and we will not hesitate to break your legs."  
  
At that, Harry laughed.  
  
"Anyone up for a swim?" asked Hannah. "I'm getting a bit of cabin fever from being locked in here."  
  
Harry looked around the gorgeous room again. How could ANYONE possibly get cabin fever in here? A smirk of realization crossed his face. No wonder why not a single person sorted into Hufflepuff ever complains after the Sorting Ceremony.  
  
"I'm game," said Justin as Ernie followed. After seeing the look in Harry's green eyes of sheer wanting, he finally cracked. "You can come too if you want, Harry."  
  
Overjoyed, Harry followed the three Hufflepuff students with a skip to his step as they left the Common room through a wooden door with vines growing up the side of it.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * Despite the tranquil peace of mind that a night in the Hufflepuff common room provided Harry with temporarily, tensions were rising high over the next few days. Jessica had all but ignored him that morning, brushing him off with a weak apology and a 'I'll talk to you later'.  
  
And once he left, after saying good-bye to Badge, the bliss that the room had provided was gone. By now, word of the attacks on Malfoy had reached the student body and everyone tread with caution as, once again, Hogwarts was caught up within a storm of fear.  
  
That same day, Ron and Hermione were released from the hospital wing, while Madam Pomfrey was busy trying to keep Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy alive. Ron had told Harry that they did not look very good. He had overheard Pomfrey speaking to Lucius Malfoy, who was flanked by the Crabbe and Goyle's fathers, (This had brought a bittersweet smirk to Harry's face) telling him that she could not guarantee their lives. Lucius had immediately called in for a Specialist medi-wizard who was now assisting Madam Pomfrey.  
  
And to make matters worse, each of the Gryffindor Fifth Year boys were now beginning to show the signs of a lack of sleep. Each and every night without fail, Sean awoke screaming from another horrible dream. While Harry's dreams had been unimpressive as of late, Sean continued telling Harry everything.  
  
"We were back in the classroom, Voldemort asked me if I had reconsidered my actions, I told him no, he tortured me again!"  
  
"It happened again, he hit me, so much pain!"  
  
"I said alright, just please don't hurt me anymore. He backed off and let me stay for the rest of the lesson."  
  
And it was that note, nearly a week later that arched Harry's brows.  
  
"I can't blame you," said Ron without much enthusiasm, as they were sitting down for breakfast in the Great Hall. "The Cruciatus Curse is not joking matter." He yawned loudly, stretching his hands. His normally bright, blue eyes were sunken in, and deep bags were clearly present.  
  
"I'm sorry," said Sean, instantly picking up on Ron's mood. "I'll sleep in the common room tonight."  
  
Hermione frowned deeply, glaring at Ron. "No you will not!" she said indignantly. "Is this how you treat your friends when they are having a tough time?"  
  
Ron glared at Hermione with a very hurt expression and lowered his eyes back to his plate.  
  
Harry shrugged. Hermione's expression also softened as she saw Ron's hurt look.  
  
"I didn't mean it like that," she said softly. There was a moment of awkward silence before Hermione, as if renewed by a second wind, turned to Harry. "Oh, subject change. I found out an interesting thing in the library about Ben Nevis and Narhassa."  
  
"Oh?" asked Harry.  
  
"Yeah," she said. "Have you two ever heard of a Sorolith?"  
  
"A Soro-whooa-whatta?" asked Sean, cocking his head.  
  
Harry shrugged and shook his head.  
  
"Well," said Hermione. "About thirty years ago, a wizard with a passion for hiking found one buried at the peek of Ben Nevis."  
  
"What is it, exactly?" asked Ron, looking up from his plate.  
  
Hermione took a sip of her juice. "It's hard to explain," she said. "Basically, it is a ball that is capable of capturing a figment of one's soul."  
  
Upon receiving blank looks, she continued.  
  
"Upon touching it, a person looses a bit of his soul into the Sorolith. By itself, that portion of the soul is nothing, but when combined with a more portions taken from many more wizards, it begins to amount to something."  
  
Harry nodded his head slowly, digesting the information. "So, you are saying that some wizard found this at the summit of the mountain?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yes, and that isn't the only interesting thing."  
  
"Let me guess," said Ron slyly. "He was found murdered shortly after uncovering it and the Sorolith was taken."  
  
Hermione cocked her head. "How did you know?"  
  
"Because that is always the story," said Ron with a grunt.  
  
Sean and Harry both smirked wryly while Hermione blinked off Ron's comment. "That proves that someone wanted that Sorolith and was willing to kill for it."  
  
Ron stared at Hermione for a moment.  
  
"What are the purposes for the Sorolith?" he asked.  
  
Hermione looked from Ron to Harry to Sean. "I looked into that as well and came up with only two possible uses. First, a wizard can use it to create a simulacrum of himself, basically a fake replica of himself. It's sort of a defensive spell, the simulacrum takes any damage the owner might take until it is destroyed. Not all that interesting, really. It is a primitive form of magic, when most spells used to deal damaged directly to their enemies: lightning bolts, fireballs, etc. Now that most common spells don't cause physical harm, a simulacrum doesn't really help, The second use is the most interesting, however."  
  
Sean sighed and continued eating his breakfast. "Too many big words for me."  
  
"The second use is to focus the sacrifice of ones soul and covert it into raw energy," finished Hermione.  
  
Harry clapped his hands together. "Bang on!" he exclaimed. "So, that explains how the Wizards of Narhassa sacrificed their souls so long ago."  
  
Ron nodded eagerly. "To convert their souls into a massive amount of energy, but for what?"  
  
"All I can say is nothing seems worthy of giving ones soul for," said Sean slowly.  
  
Hermione nodded. "That's a great point. It doesn't seem like any earthy goal is worth ones soul, the denial of both life and afterlife."  
  
"Let me guess," said Ron, resting his elbow on the table with a flat palm to the ceiling. "You have a hypothesis on why."  
  
"Well, of course I do," muttered Hermione bossily, as if to think otherwise was to commit a mortal sin. "My hypothesis is that one can convert another's soul into energy unwillingly using the Sorolith."  
  
"Sound," said Harry with a nod. "Very sound."  
  
"That would explain a good amount," agreed Ron. "What if the Wizards of Narhassa had a single leader, and that leader forced all his subjects to give up their souls?"  
  
Sean shrugged. "Yeah, but why?"  
  
"Soul energy," began Hermione sagely, "is one of the greatest powers in the entire world. That is why the Dark Arts are so powerful, if one has an extremely strong soul, they can compel others to feel pain, fall under their whim, or simply die."  
  
"Blimey," said Ron in stunned awe. "Imagine what someone could do with all the souls of the Wizards of Narhassa. There were like a hundred!"  
  
"I wouldn't even want to imagine," said Harry darkly. "Because the truth will be so much more horrifying than anything I could think of."  
  
Ron looked to Harry. "How you figure?"  
  
Harry returned Ron's look, with a smirk of irony. "Because that is always the story."  
  
At that Sean chuckled while Hermione even managed a smile. Ron waved away the comment.  
  
"Anyway, subject change yet again," he said. "When do we start playing Quiddich?"  
  
Harry slapped his forehead. "Oh, I've been meaning to tell ya," he began. "With five teams, one team gets a pass through the first rounds of play and an automatic fifty points. Since we've won the House Cup for three years running now, we were the ones chosen."  
  
Sean blinked stupidly, but before he could ask, Hermione leaned over and began to whisper to him.  
  
"Ah," said Ron. "Who is the captain, now, wait a second, five teams?!"  
  
Harry nodded. "Yes, House Narhassa has registered a team."  
  
"What!" exclaimed Ron. "They don't even know what Quiddich is!"  
  
"Obviously someone told them," replied Harry snappily. "The games aren't for another week. By my understanding, the Narhassa team has been out at the crack of dawn every day, practicing Quiddich before class."  
  
"Motivated little buggers, aren't they?" cooed Ron with appreciation. "Anyway, who is our captain?"  
  
"Katie Bell," replied Harry. "The pass is great because we still need two chasers and a keeper. Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson both graduated, and we never found a replacement for Oliver Wood yet."  
  
Ron bounced with enthusiasm. "You've seen me fly, Harry. I'd be a great Keeper!"  
  
Harry shrugged. "I'll definitely tell Katie. You'll probably get a tryout. But, that still leaves us two chasers short."  
  
Sean chirped up, after Hermione stopped whispering in his ear. "A chaser is the one that throws and catches the uh,"  
  
"Quaffle," supplied Harry.  
  
Sean snapped his fingers. "Yeah. I used to play a lot of basketball, don't really have the height for it, but I was a good shot."  
  
"Sean, do you even know how to fly?" asked Ron a bit more crisply than he probably meant to.  
  
Sean returned his testy quip with a smirk. "Sure, but if you insist that I need to use a broom, I'll have to learn how. Really not used to using a broom."  
  
"Sod off," snapped Ron. "You can't fly without a broom."  
  
Sean smirked knowingly, his green eyes gleaming with mischief. "No." he said with a smile. "You can't."  
  
Ron's face flushed red with a bit of anger, but Harry butting in cut off his retort.  
  
"Ok, Ron, take a drink of juice. Sean, I don't care if you can pass gas and shoot yourself to the moon. You need to use a broom in Quiddich."  
  
"Fine," said Sean, without any hint of disappointment. "I really can't fly anyway. I was just teasing."  
  
Ron choked on his juice while Hermione burst out laughing. Harry cracked a short grin. With a grunt, Ron stuffed his face with pancakes, looking down at his plate.  
  
"Um, Harry Potter," called a voice from behind him.  
  
Harry's grin faded as he turned back to view a small looking Ravenclaw boy with a round face and light blonde hair. He couldn't have been more than a second year.  
  
"Yeah?" he asked, as his friends fell silent and stared at the small boy.  
  
"Madam Pomfrey said to report to the Hospital Wing immediately," he said, as if afraid that Harry was going to beat him for giving him bad news.  
  
Harry blinked for a moment. "Did she say why?"  
  
"Yeah," the boy stammered. "One of the patients needs to speak to you. He said it was an emergency."  
  
"Huh?" thought Harry out loud, as he glanced back a Ron.  
  
"It has to be Malfoy," said Ron coldly. "What would that git want to say to you?"  
  
Harry's eyes widened as a thought popped into his head. It's about who attacked him. I know it,  
  
He stood up without delay, and rushed out of the Great Hall.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Harry pushed open the door to the Hospital Wing with a loud bang. Despite a week having past, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were still bedridden, though they looked considerably better. Madam Pomfrey and an older man of about sixty with a head of balding white hair were currently examining the three boys in the otherwise empty hospital wing.  
  
Draco's eyes lifted upon seeing Harry.  
  
"Potter. I didn't expect you'd rush to see me."  
  
Harry glared at Malfoy. While being too benevolent to bring out his worst against a bedridden menace, he was still not to fond to be by his side.  
  
"Skip it, Malfoy. What do you want?"  
  
Malfoy sat back into his pillow and despite his frail looking body, managed to come off with an air of confidence. "Do you have any more information about Seth Redetyor for me? You've had a week."  
  
"I didn't realize I had a homework assignment," said Harry crisply.  
  
Malfoy arched a brow. "That's a no, I take it."  
  
"Take it however you want," replied Harry.  
  
"So, Seth Redeytor has been behaving himself, now hasn't he? No more looks at you, no more scar pain, no more show downs in the bathrooms?" continued Malfoy.  
  
Harry's contempt for Malfoy began to turn into curiosity. "You know something, don't you, and that is why you were attacked,"  
  
Malfoy nodded slowly. "For a dumb Gryffindor, you do catch on rather quick."  
  
"And you want to tell me," continued Harry. "Why?"  
  
Malfoy shrugged. "I'd have thought that to have been obvious. Perhaps you aren't that bright."  
  
"Enlighten me then, oh wise Slytherin," snapped Harry.  
  
A condescending grin crossed Malfoy's face. "Well, natural and unnatural disasters seem to be your area of expertise. After all, you've taken a git like Weasley and given him a purpose for living. I think, of all your achievements, the Sorcerer's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets, the Tri Wizard Tournament, that has been your most notable one."  
  
"I'm leaving," snapped Harry as he turned to go.  
  
"No you aren't," returned Malfoy. "Because I'm about to tell you who attacked me. You may find this story interesting."  
  
Indeed, Harry wasn't leaving. He turned back just as quickly.  
  
"Well, get on with it then," said Harry, still none to pleased to be exchanging anything but hostile words with Malfoy.  
  
Malfoy folded his arms across his chest. For someone who had been attacked to the mere inch of his life, he sure didn't act very humble, Harry thought.  
  
And then, Malfoy began his story.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Are you two ever going to finish your Charms Homework?" snapped Malfoy, impatiently.  
  
Crabbe looked up irritably and grunted. Goyle mumbled something as he pointed at a page in his book and looked to Draco with a confused look.  
  
Malfoy groaned and reached over the table within the Slytherin Common Room. It was a dark chamber with green hued lamps swinging from the ceiling, suspended by rusted chains. A dank smell of mold hinted within Draco's nostrils as he snorted at Goyle with disdain. The Slytherin spun Goyle's book one hundred and eighty degrees, setting it right-side up.  
  
"Try it now."  
  
A stupid grin broke across his face as he laughed trollishly and continued reading.  
  
"If you were any " he said dourly, putting his head into the palm of his hands and staring dourly ahead.  
  
Many thoughts jumped into Malfoy's head, as usual, whenever he felt alone. He often mused he did enough thinking for three people, for that was how his life worked. Crabbe and Goyle did very little of the thinking while Malfoy told them what their opinions were.  
  
Yet, as much as he wanted to hate Crabbe and Goyle for being so mentally, and perhaps genetically more primitive than he was, he depended on them for survival as they did upon him. It was a symbiotic relationship. With them at his side, he could say anything to anyone and get away with it. On the downside, he often had to spend long hours with them, tutoring them and insuring that they passed their subjects, for Draco knew that without them, he would be just another Weasley, he would have had to find someone to latch onto if he were to survive.  
  
This thought made him hate Weasley more than anything. Without Potter, he was nothing, and yet, that thought did not seem to bother the red haired git.  
  
Besides, while watching the two ogres fumble around through their books like demented infants, could not help but feel with his two cronies, he was still in charge of something.  
  
His attention was momentarily drawn to the sight of Seth Redetyor, who had immerged from the stairs leading down to their dormitories, within the cellar of the Slytherin dungeon. Seth gave everyone a look over with a raised lip and made quickly for the hidden stone door, leading out of the Common Room. Most interestingly, he was dressed in a cloak and a green and silver scarf, as if he was planning an outdoor expedition.  
  
"Where do you suppose he is going?" asked Malfoy.  
  
Crabbe looked up to him again and grunted a few times.  
  
Malfoy considered Crabbe's 'words'. It had taken him a long time, but he had learned to understand Crabbish and Goylic while he was a child. It was a primitive language of grunts and groans often mixed with a few words when they were feeling particularly bright.  
  
"It's a bit late for that, wouldn't you think?" asked Malfoy. "Wait, don't, last time you tried that, you got brain pain for an hour."  
  
Crabbe put a finger to his lip and nodded once.  
  
"Let's check it out," said Malfoy, standing up slowly and moving to follow Seth as the wall reset itself after the strange boy's passing. Crabbe and Goyle grunted in affirmation and followed Malfoy, pushing past a group of second years. "I'll be damned if that right git makes us loose any more points in one day."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"You, Crabbe and Goyle followed Redetyor?" asked Harry in disbelief. "Is that how it happened?"  
  
Malfoy looked at him irritably from his bed. "Yes, and no. Shut up and listen."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Malfoy rounded the corridor, keeping a good distance between him and the fleeing, cloaked being in front of him. Crabbe and Goyle followed even further behind at his insistence, for he was afraid their heavy breathing and their graceless footsteps would give them away.  
  
The sound of commotion from the Great Hall began to fill the air as they approached. At once, Malfoy felt extremely stupid. What if he was just going for a late dinner? The pallid boy then reconsidered the situation, with the way Seth was dressed for a walk out in the cold. Malfoy's suspicions were confirmed as he hooked a right, avoiding the Great Hall and taking a quick turn down a side corridor filled with titanic suits of armor.  
  
Where is he going?  
  
Suddenly, Redeytor made a quick hop to his left, pressing himself up against the wall and ducking behind a suit of shimmering mail. Malfoy waved Crabbe and Goyle back, and leapt against the wall as well, dodging behind a suit of armor. Crabbe and Goyle obediently stayed behind in the corridor leading to the Great Hall.  
  
A group of Gryffindors immerged from around the corner, barely fifty feet ahead of him. They walked slowly, without much urgency to their steps. Malfoy watched them with masked disdain from concealment. A few passed within five feet of him as he ducked in the shadow of the mail in front of him.  
  
"Trust me, Sean," said the voice of Harry Potter. "Once that initial effect wears off, you'll find yourself begging for a Killing Curse simply to escape the ungodly confines of that classroom."  
  
Malfoy peered out from behind the suit of armor and saw Harry talking with a smaller boy with deep, ruddy hair. The pale skinned boy instantly recognized him as the Muggle who was sorted into Gryffindor.  
  
"I got that impression after he started talking about those Dementor things, they must be the most boring. . ." replied the boy, as their conversation faded out of earshot as they rounded the corner and turned toward the Great Hall.  
  
With that, Malfoy stood up and peered around. Redetyor had swooped out from behind his armor and continued a brisk pace down the corridor in the direction the Gryffindors had come, his black cloak flapping out from behind him.  
  
Crabbe and Goyle immerged from behind the corner and fell into flanking positions with Malfoy as they continued stalking after Seth.  
  
Seth rounded a second corridor, clearly making his way for the entrance of Hogwarts. It was obvious to the calculating Slytherin that Redetyor was not planning on staying local.  
  
"All we need is some proof," said Malfoy quietly to his cronies, "that Redetyor is leaving the grounds, and he'll be expelled."  
  
Crabbe and Goyle chortled incoherently at the prospect.  
  
Malfoy carefully followed Seth around the corner, about twenty-five feet behind him, and suddenly stopped.  
  
Seth was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"What the?" asked Malfoy as he looked to Crabbe and Goyle, though he didn't expect much from them. Crabbe scratched his head like an ape while Goyle shrugged his shoulders and emitted an I-dunno grunt.  
  
The corridor leading to the entrance of Hogwarts was completely barren saved the candlelight burning from the chandeliers above. Golden hued shadows danced about the hall as the sun was on the verge of setting outside the school. All students were either in the Great Hall, having finished the last of their classes, or retired to their Common Rooms.  
  
Suddenly, the hair on the back of Malfoy's neck arose. He felt movement behind him but was powerless to act in time. A strong being threaded an arm beneath his armpit, putting him in a wrestlers chicken wing hold. A hand clamped over Malfoy's mouth before he could cast any spells. Crabbe and Goyle whirled about just in time to see Draco being pulled out of arms reach by a black-cloaked figure.  
  
"Make a move, and I'll snap his neck," hiss a voice loudly, glaring at the two trollish, confused forms.  
  
Crabbe and Goyle both looked at each other stupidly and made no move. Draco began to shake all over as tension gripped his body.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Redetyor attacked you?" gasped Harry. "But, why?"  
  
Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "It wasn't him who did the attacking."  
  
Harry blinked, truly confused. It seemed that while Harry was listening to Draco's dark tale, the hospital room had taken on a dark and sinister look, despite the early morning sun. The rising sun cast long shadows against Draco's face, making it appear more deathly and pale, reminding him of an animated corpse.  
  
"What do you mean it wasn't him?" asked Harry.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Now, you listen here, kid, and you listen good," hissed the boy who had to be Seth Redetyor. Malfoy, while in the midst of the wrestler's hold, could not see his assailant clearly. His face burned from where his arm was locked against the temple of his head. Redetyor lifted his hand from Malfoy's mouth, now confident that the young wizard would not be casting any spells successfully. "You did not see me leaving school tonight. I do not know what you think you are on about, but you are meddling with a sentient being you cannot even begin to understand."  
  
Yet, as terrified as Malfoy was, there was a sort of rebellion within him; a sort of upstanding pride that, despite his situation, would not let him fold his cards.  
  
"You think you are going to get away with this, Muggle?" snapped Draco, rolling his eyes and trying to get a glimpse of his attacker. "You might get me, but do you think you can take both Crabbe and Goyle before they get you?"  
  
Crabbe and Goyle took two steps back as three more cloaked figures stepped out from the shadows cast by the chandeliers nearby. A quick glance afforded Malfoy enough time to know that Redetyor definitely had the upper hand.  
  
Redetyor suddenly released his hold on Malfoy, and pushed him toward his larger friends.  
  
"You couldn't just nod and say yes, could you, Draco Malfoy?" asked the cloaked figure. Malfoy hit into his two other companions and spun about to see the smug, black-haired boy, smirking with him. His dark green eyes were narrowed into dead slits, with nothing but pure malice behind them. "You had to make your own survival a risk to my cause, didn't you?" asked Seth, his arms crossed gravely. He cocked his head slowly and methodically toward one of the three-cloaked figures.  
  
"Teach them a lesson. I have business to attend to. Just, wound them. I trust Mr. Malfoy won't be speaking about this to the good Headmaster after he is shown what the power of Narhassa can do to him."  
  
"Goody," said one of the figures from beneath a black hood, his voice very recognizable. He smacked his fist into the palm of his hand. "I'm glad I didn't have to wait long for this."  
  
His voice was distinctly laden with a distinctive American accent.  
  
With a sudden move, Malfoy made a grab for his wand. Yet, the figure who spoke to him was just too quick. He raised his hands, fanned out his fingers, and suddenly, a blast of white lightning shot forth from his hand, striking into Malfoy with archer's precision. Draco felt his body lift from the ground and launch into the air. He felt searing, fiery pain all over his body as he thudded painfully back to the floor, skidding several more feet and into a pillar.  
  
Crabbe and Goyle made no move to help him, instead, they had their own problems. The other two figures had extended their arms and were sending shimmering blue balls of energy flying forth from their outstretched hands upon the large boys. Seth Redeytor rushed past the battle and fled out of the main entrance of the school.  
  
"Where are your arrogant words now, prick?" hissed the cloaked figure as another bolt of lightning shot into Malfoy's body, sending him into seizures charged by electric force. "What was it you called me, Muggle scum? Not so tough when your fatass friends aren't able to protect you, are you? I bet you wish three pathetic Muggles had your back now, huh?"  
  
Malfoy hissed in pain as he was nearly pushed back to the main entrance, crying out in angst. Someone had to hear him. Crabbe and Goyle had slumped to the floor, a slight pool of blood forming by their heads.  
  
The first figure was about to lift his hands to dispense more punishment when the third figure grabbed the boy's hand. In the distance, they could hear the sound of running footsteps, reacting to Draco's screams of pain.  
  
"Someone is coming!" echoed a distinctly female voice. "We have to go!"  
  
The original cloaked figure snorted and emitted a fourth bolt of lighting. Instead of snapping, energetic white, it was colored bloody crimson. When it struck Malfoy's chest, it didn't run through him with jolting pain, but goring agony as if a spike had been jammed into his chest. He placed his hand to his belly, and felt only wet blood.  
  
Over his own agony, he could distinctly hear the first cloaked figure speaking again.  
  
"You are so lucky Redetyor wants you alive, cause I'd be happy to leave you a corpse. You heard the man; tell the Headmaster about this, and we will make your death very painful indeed."  
  
And then, the three figures took off down a random hallway, escaping the oncoming footfalls. Strong arms were lifting the last thing Draco remembered before he blacked out.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Harry stared at Draco, in stunned silence.  
  
"I suppose that muggle that was with you was the one who assaulted me," he said, his eyes still caring a unique pride. "He made sure to hammer that point in rather unsubtly."  
  
Harry's vision had fogged over momentarily in consideration. He blinked his eyes, as if just waking up from a bad dream.  
  
"Why?" said Harry darkly.  
  
Malfoy replied to Harry's dark tone with a scowl of his own. "Why what, Potter?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "Why are you telling me all this? How do I even know you aren't lying to me?"  
  
Draco glared at Harry for a long moment. Harry suspected he received the furthest reply from what he was expecting.  
  
"What possible gain would lying to you provide me?" snapped Draco.  
  
"An outlet for your evil little mind and your sick, twisted imagination all at once, perhaps?" retorted Harry.  
  
"No," said Draco. "That's what my diary is for."  
  
Harry glared at Draco with an autumn chill, his emerald green eyes flaring up with his force of character.  
  
"All you are, Draco Malfoy, is a lie. Everything that happens to you, you distort, you milk, you plunder and you squeeze until it gives you the most personal gain. And when you have nothing to gain from something, you make sure it becomes other people's losses as well. You are a virus."  
  
Draco stared at Harry with a mock awe. "Wow. I'm sexually aroused right now, Potter. Are you done with your diatribe, or should I take a nap before you get back on subject?"  
  
"This is the subject, Malfoy. You are the subject."  
  
"No," said Draco coldly. "Redetyor is the subject; the Dark Lord is the subject."  
  
"You filthy git," sneered Harry as he turned around. "You don't think I've forgotten what you told me on the train?"  
  
Draco licked his lips. "I've said a lot of things on the train to you, Potter."  
  
Harry's face became stony and grave. He slowly navigated around Draco's bed, his voice filled with hatred.  
  
"You've picked the losing side, Potter. I warned you. I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this. Too late now, Potter. They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back."  
  
He paused for a moment, glaring hard at Malfoy.  
  
"Mudbloods and Muggle-Lovers first, well second, Diggory was the first," finished Harry, speaking off the top of his head, looking back to Draco with severe green eyes. Malfoy's gray eyes twitched slightly as he arched his brows. "Those were my words, exact to the letter, weren't they?"  
  
"Yes," said Harry chillingly. "You threatened the lives of my best friends and slandered the memory of Cedric Diggory, as well as pledged yourself to the Dark Lord. What DAMN right do you have to even THINK I'll trust a word out of your mouth?"  
  
Draco seemed a bit stunned at first, but within a moment, he repainted his face into his usual calm, deliberate manner.  
  
"Well, now, what did I exactly swear myself to?" asked Draco. "Given a choice between a risen Dark Lord or an unaware, Muggle loving community, I choose the forward, Potter. You should do the same."  
  
"Then why," snapped Harry, "are you at such odds with Redetyor? He's working for the Dark Lord too, isn't he?"  
  
Draco stared at Harry. "I have my reasons, and they don't concern you, Potter."  
  
"Tell me why you even bothered to tell me this story now," said Harry. "And no more bullshit, Malfoy."  
  
"No more bullshit then, Potter?" affirmed Malfoy questioningly.  
  
"You heard me."  
  
Malfoy looked back, his smug expression replaced by a look of grave concern. "Because Redetyor isn't working for Voldemort, Potter, he is working against him.". 


	12. History Lessons and Love Pentagons

A/N: Would just like to thank all those who reviewed this story on Schnoogle, at FictionAlley.com! You guys inspired me to keep writing and posting my work. I hope you all like this story here as well! Please read and review, it's how I get my kicks after work. If you hate the story or are bored with it, please tell me why. While I love good reviews, I only learn from bad ones.  
  
Chapter 12: History Lessons and Love Pentagons  
  
Ron looked upon Harry with a sort of stunned expression that conveyed perfectly what he tongue was incapable of.  
  
The sun had reached its zenith, yet provided no warmth to the two boys as they sat outside of Hogwarts, bundled up warmly against the cold air that blew off the frigid lake. While not cold enough to freeze the deep body of water, it was brisk enough to tinge the two boy's cheeks the same color as their Gryffindor scarves.  
  
"So," said Ron, with a slumped and defeated expression as he sat down upon a damp log by the shore of the lake. "You-Know-Who does not even factor in here."  
  
Harry sighed and crouched next to his best friend. "It was a lot for me to take in as well."  
  
For reasons Harry could only begin to understand, he had withheld all mention of his conversation with Draco Malfoy from Ron for nearly a week. He was quick to tell Hermione, but for some reason, he did not want to share the icy truth with Ron. Hermione possessed research skills that could scrape of layers of this mystery, given time. While Hermione might have been the difference between life and death in all of Harry's escapades, he could not help but think Ron was along for the ride, simply because he was his friend.  
  
Now, a week after his conversation with Malfoy, Harry found a grave weakness within himself. He could not eat his food during dinnertime, and he could not sleep during the night. He found out now, more than ever, he needed Ron simply for his support. Hermione could never provide him with the kind of support that a best friend could. At first, Harry thought it would be selfish to tell Ron, for little tangible progress would be made, and if those of House Narhassa found out Ron knew what he did, they would likely kill him as quickly as they would have Malfoy. Yet, Harry felt instantly better once he made the choice to tell Ron everything.  
  
"Seth Redetyor is not Voldemort," said Harry. "He's something or someone much worse. Malfoy figured this out much sooner than all of us."  
  
Ron looked up to Harry, blowing out some visible smoke from his mouth into the cold air.  
  
"He had an advantage over us, seeing as how he is all but a Deatheater himself. If someone knows Voldemort's plans, it is that pallid git."  
  
Harry nodded. "Advantage or not, this is what he figured out. The Sorolith that Hermione was talking about; Malfoy knew about it."  
  
Ron bit his lip. "But, how?"  
  
"He hit me with that too," said Harry darkly. "Remember when Hermione told us the story about the hiking wizard who unearthed the Sorolith on the top of Ben Nevis?"  
  
"How could I forget?" returned Ron.  
  
"Well," said Harry. "It was Lucius Malfoy who killed the man in order to steal the Sorolith from him, nearly thirty years ago."  
  
Ron blinked, his breath catching in his lungs. "But, Lucius Malfoy isn't much older than thirty years old,"  
  
Harry nodded slowly. "And that is the cold and sinister truth about it. Draco said Lucius had been forefront with him about this story, and for some reason, I think Malfoy is being one hundred percent truthful. That hiker was a butler in the Malfoy Manor, who had taken a week off to practice his favorite past time. While it was doubtful that Lucius knew what sort of powers the Sorolith held then. He couldn't have been more than seven years old, but when Lucius saw the Sorolith in the butler's room after he had returned, he locked the butler in his closet and took it. No one found the butler for a week."  
  
"But, how did Lucius get away with that?" said Ron, his wide-blue eyes widened in fear.  
  
Harry looked out over the lake, his eyes hard and his face unreadable. There was something so dark about this story that it brought out even the worst in him just telling it. His voice possessed the same chill as the air around him, as the sickening tale had made him nauseous.  
  
"They were not about to put a seven year old in Azkaban," said Harry factually. "They refused to believe that Lucius was the one who did it. Instead, they blamed his father, Draco's grandfather, Darius Malfoy. He was placed into Azkaban for murder and died after two years."  
  
Ron shivered all over as the gravity of this tale swept over his body, turning his skin a sickly, pale white. "And Malfoy, just offered all this up?" said Ron, his voice cracking with tension. "Offered up the truth about his father?"  
  
Harry tapped his two fingers against his chin pensively. "Draco serves Voldemort loyally. This much, I know for certain. Lucius Malfoy, at this point in his career, is all but as powerful as the Minister of Magic; perhaps once Fudge shows the same incompetence that he showed Dumbledore last year, he might even rise to the position. He had nothing to loose by telling us this information. My guess is what he wants us to trust him in a mutual struggle against this Redetyor."  
  
Ron ran his hand through his ruddy, red hair, searching the sky for an answer Harry did not seem to have.  
  
"What is Redetyor trying to do?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "I do not know, but what I do know is this: Draco told me that the Sorolith, which had been in Lucius' possession ever since that day, thirty years ago, was stolen five months ago, right out from under his bloody nose."  
  
Ron gasped and nearly became paralyzed. "And I'm willing to bet, the next day, or the day after, the current 'Wizards of Narhassa' were suddenly given their mysterious powers."  
  
"Bang on," said Harry darkly. "Bang on,"  
  
"So, let's review," said Ron. If the expression on his face swam with confusion as much as his mind did, he was as hopelessly lost as Harry was. "Lucius Malfoy kills the butler and holds the Sorolith for thirty years. A few months ago, it is stolen from him mysteriously, at the same time as the Muggle mutations began. According to Malfoy, You-Know-Who is not behind this, but Seth Redetyor is. Was it Redetyor who stole the Sorolith?"  
  
"Draco seems to think so," said Harry, without much hesitation. "Or else, he wouldn't have been so suspicious of him from the start."  
  
Ron sighed and the two friends finally fell into silence. "It all makes sense, in an impossible, improbable and unimaginable way."  
  
Harry, despite himself, managed a smile. "I just thought you should know, that's all."  
  
The red haired boy turned to Harry. For one of the first times ever, he could not read what emotion was behind Ron's face.  
  
"Why did you wait so long to tell me, Harry?" asked Ron, his voice hinting at a bit of pain. "You've never held back anything from me before."  
  
Harry stood up slowly from his crouching position next to Ron. "At first, I wasn't sure if it was something we should get involved in. By what Draco said, this seems to be Redetyor against Voldemort."  
  
Ron paused and considered that for a moment. "What changed your mind?" he asked at length.  
  
Harry sighed and turned his back to the lake, beginning to walk back to Hogwarts. Ron followed him, walking side by side as they always did.  
  
"If Redetyor wins, that proves he is more powerful than Voldemort and we simply trade one evil for another. If Voldemort wins, he'll have whatever scheme Redetyor was up to at his fingertips and succeed where he has failed." Harry glanced from the ground to Ron. "Either way, we loose."  
  
"So, what are you thinking?" asked Ron.  
  
Harry shook his head. "We need to find a way to make them both loose."  
  
Ron shrugged weakly, as if the prospect sat as well with him as a root canal. "Any idea how?"  
  
At that, Harry sighed. "Not a clue in hell."  
  
The two boys walked back to Hogwarts in silence.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"And now," droned on Professor Binns as he hovered in place, with a phantasmal textbook within his hands, "we will move onto the Dementor Resurrection of 1659. This was the second of the five of the resurrections we have noticed. The third was on January 29th, 1710, and was most noticeable for the length of time it,"  
  
Harry looked to Sean, who was sitting next to him. Sean's eyelids looked very heavy as his head rested within his hands. It was clear that the effect of Binns being a ghost had worn off a long time ago. On Harry's other side, Ron had already fallen fast asleep and was snoring to the beat of the ghost's monotonic voice. Hermione, next to Sean, was furiously scrawling notes, no doubt in a vain attempt to keep awake. She was failing, however, as he quill was slipping off the paper every time she finished a line.  
  
"If this class was any drier, I'd dehydrate," muttered Sean as he slapped himself in the face.  
  
Harry nodded with understanding. "How's your fantastic phenomenon class coming?" whispered Harry, making sure to keep his voice in check.  
  
Sean's expression turned from fatigue to nervousness. "I don't really know, Harry."  
  
"What do you mean?" asked Harry, leaning closer to Sean.  
  
Sean looked to Binns, who seemed engrossed in his own lecture. He then leaned in to whisper into Harry's ear.  
  
"I feel like a complete outsider," he said. "And, whenever I go in, they all look at me, as if I didn't belong. Even Alex won't talk to me anymore."  
  
Harry winced slightly. While he had told Sean about his conversation with Malfoy, he had downplayed the story quite a bit and left out many key points, especially the part suggesting that it was Alex who nearly killed Draco.  
  
"It's just because you are in Gryffindor," whispered Harry, in an attempt to sound lighthearted. "They don't really know you."  
  
Sean looked back to Binns, who was completely unaware of their conversation, and then continued speaking. "Jessica is a Hufflepuff, and they swarm around her like she's some kind of ringleader. It makes me nervous."  
  
At the mention of Jessica, Harry felt his face flush a shade of red. It had now been two weeks, and Jessica seemed to be blatantly ignoring him. He tried to start up conversation with her nearly every day, only to be either brushed aside or, at best, politely talked to for no more than five minutes before she excused herself and pecked him on the cheek.  
  
"Are you still having your dreams?" asked Harry. He did not dare to tell Sean, but about a week ago, Seamus had charmed Sean's bed with a noise barrier that prohibited any sound from within to escape the confines of the curtains, so long as they were closed. Seamus, never one to be overly compassionate, had just reached his limit. As a result, Harry never knew if Sean had his dreams anymore.  
  
Sean sighed. "Every night. I've started to pay attention, if nothing else, to learn what is being talked about."  
  
"Does Voldemort still teach the class?" asked Harry. It was clear that, perhaps, Sean's dreams were the only set of circumstances that linked these chains of events to the Dark Lord. Harry wanted to know everything.  
  
"Yeah," whispered Sean, with a nod. "Though it's strange, I don't remember much about the dream when I awaken."  
  
"Mr. Hopper and Mr. Cameron, are you quite done?" asked Binns agitatedly, closing his book and glaring at Harry.  
  
Harry lurched up from his slouched position. "What?, erm, yes sir, quite done."  
  
"Perhaps if what you were saying is so important, you should share it with the rest of the class," said Binns, with an unusual edge to his normally drab and boring voice.  
  
Harry shifted uneasily in his seat.  
  
"I was just telling Harry about some of my dreams," said Sean nervously. "He wasn't even talking."  
  
"Oh, but, Mr. Cameron, why stop there?" pressed Binns, his sallow, ghostly face etched with a cross look. "You've been talking for at least half the class. I'm sure you have, at least, something of importance to share with us."  
  
Sean lowered his head. "Everyone in House Narhassa has been having strange dreams, Professor. I have them too."  
  
Binns did not react for a moment, but the quizzical look on his face showed a sort of torpid anger. Yet, before he could continue, Hermione raised her hand.  
  
"Professor, what was the original Order of Narhassa all about?" Harry was not sure if the purpose of this was to sate an intellectual curiosity, or bail Sean out, however, Harry quickly decided on the latter.  
  
The ghost stared blearily upon Hermione. "Ms. Grant, I do believe that is very much off the topic of discussion."  
  
Yet, as the class had done once before, three years ago with the Chamber of Secrets, they did not let the topic drop.  
  
"It's current history," said Seamus, leaning forward in his chair. "We would all benefit greatly if you could tell us about the roots of House Narhassa."  
  
Binns wearily eyed Seamus. "Nonsense, O'Flaherty, the Order of Narhassa was a group of fanatics eight hundred years ago who were led by Salazar Slytherin. That is not current history." Binns' grave expression, however, finally melted away as he looked over his class. Harry's chair was virtually tipping over, as he was riding on the corner, while Ron Weasley was ACTUALLY awake. With a sigh, he closed the textbook in front of him.  
  
"Very well," said Binns. "Since this lesson could very well be a page out of Hogwarts: A History, I suppose we can spend some time discussing it."  
  
Even Hermione put down her quill, listening to Binns with rapt attention.  
  
"Around the mid twelfth century, perhaps 1155, Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor had a major dispute concerning who would be admitted to learn at Hogwarts. Salazar Slytherin, angered that the other founders sided with Godric Gryffindor and allowed those of a non-pureblooded nature to be schooled in Hogwarts, left. All this should not be new material for any of you."  
  
"What then, Professor?" asked Harry, energetically.  
  
Professor Binns calmly placed his phantasmal hands upon the podium in front of him. "Salazar Slytherin then faded out of history for nearly forty years. In fact, Godric Gryffindor and the rest of the founders thought him to be dead, though, he reappeared approximately forty years later at the head of a mysterious cult."  
  
"Order Narhassa?" asked Ron, appreciatively.  
  
Binns shook his head. "The title "Order Narhassa" was not formerly given to them until well after Slytherin's death. At the time, they were called the "Cult of the Narhassa."  
  
"What's the difference?" pressed Ron, with an impatient tone.  
  
"Mr. Weatherby," snapped Binns, looking very disappointed. "An "Order" is a noble organization while a "Cult" is an evil one, devoted wholly to some sort of belief."  
  
"Oh," said Ron, checking himself.  
  
"The most recorded information we have is that one night, say around 1197, Slytherin kidnapped the first borne of all of his cultists, and betrayed his order. The children were held at stake while each member gave up his or her life to Salazar. The terrible truth of the matter was that Salazar did not tell them that it was their souls that would be taken, just their lives. When this happened, Slytherin used their soul energies to awaken the legendary figure of Narhassa."  
  
"What is that?" asked Hermione, her eyes widened with fascination.  
  
"No one knows for sure," continued Binns. "Some stories depict Narhassa as a man, shining with brilliant powers. Other stories depict it as a legendary beast more powerful than a dragon, capable of laying the world to waste. Finally, some depict Narhassa as an invisible force that squeezed the life out of anyone it touched, I do not speculate which story, if any, is correct."  
  
Binns paused for a moment to adjust his spectacles.  
  
"In the interests of being thorough, I will speak now of what happened after Narhassa was awakened. Godric Gryffindor, who was over three hundred years old at the time, once again took up his sword and armor and went out to confront Salazar Slytherin. Slytherin used the powers of Narhassa to slay Godric, however, Gryffindor was able to mortally wound Slytherin in the process as well as defeat Narhassa, whatever form it had taken. Salazar died shortly after from the wounds he sustained."  
  
Harry nodded slowly, still in danger of falling off his chair. "So, the children in House Narhassa are the descendents of those first borne that were held at stake?"  
  
The phantom professor nodded. "That is as good of a hypothesis as any. Many of those children were adopted by those outside of the Wizarding World, and never formally trained in their powers. Over the course of eight hundred years, their innate Wizarding magic may have run dry. What has sparked the talent within the youths of Narhassa is what the Headmaster is trying to figure out."  
  
"Tell us about the fight between Gryffindor and Slytherin!" exclaimed Dean, who was sitting behind Harry.  
  
Binns look of the calm and mild teacher seemed to strain. "That is not documented. I fear we have exhausted,"  
  
"How did Gryffindor die?" asked Ron, bouncing slightly in his chair. "Did he run Slytherin through?"  
  
"That will do!" exclaimed Binns. "We have gotten off the topic enough for one day. Now, back to Dementors."  
  
Harry sighed. There were so many pieces to this jigsaw puzzle, yet, now they were beginning to fit in his head. Salazar Slytherin founds the Order of Narhassa, stealing the first borne of all his followers and dupes them into sacrificing their souls. Gryffindor finds this out and avenges the dead, and both die in the process.  
  
But where was the missing link, and did this have anything to do with Redetyor's plans, wondered Harry.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Harry, Ron, Hermione and Sean enjoyed a leisurely dinner that night. It seemed, after the grim truths revealed by Malfoy and by Professor Binns, that no further conversation about Narhassa was to be had this night. Instead, Ron, Harry and Sean spoke about Quiddich at length, while Hermione remained respectfully silent, listening with a short smile on her face.  
  
"So, yeah, I talked to Katie a few days ago; she said that we have the field tomorrow with the Ravenclaws, after the Slytherin/Narhassa game, and we can conduct our tryouts then on one side of the field," Harry was saying to an eager looking Ron and Sean.  
  
Sean smiled brightly. "Sounds great, Harry. I talked with one of Ron's brothers, and he is letting me use one of his old brooms."  
  
Ron blinked with stupefaction. "What, the Comet 5?"  
  
Sean shook his head. "No, it was a Cleansweep, I think."  
  
Hermione winced slightly as Ron's face lit up with anger. "I've been asking them for that broom since third year!"  
  
This even brought a nervous shift to Harry, as Sean shrugged weakly. "You can have it, if you want."  
  
If this answer was meant to calm down Ron any, it failed miserably. "I don't want YOUR broom, Sean."  
  
"Then, what's the problem?" asked Sean, in a voice weakened a bit by Ron's livid expression.  
  
Ron pushed his plate roughly to the side. "You are the damn problem, that's what!" he snapped. With that, he stood up, and marched away, leaving Sean looking completely helpless.  
  
Harry put his hand on Sean's back. "Let me talk to him. He's had a lot of information laid upon him today. He's probably a bit wired and tired."  
  
Sean nodded and looked down into his plate. Harry rose to leave, leaving Hermione and Sean side-by-side.  
  
"I'm really sorry," said Sean softly. "Fred and George let me borrow it, they said a Chaser needs a fast broom."  
  
Hermione put her arm around Sean with great affection, stroking his shoulder consolingly. "Don't be upset, Sean. Ron is just, well, I don't know what's going on with Ron, but I don't like it."  
  
Sean put his palm over Hermione's, rubbing the top of her silky hand with care. "I'm not upset, now."  
  
Hermione smiled. "For someone with only a few months practice at speaking, you really are good at it." Sean looked at Hermione, with a slight mischievous glow in his emerald green eyes.  
  
"When you've fantasized all your life about being able to simply talk to the girl of your dreams, and that dream comes true, you realize you can do anything."  
  
Hermione's face blushed over, yet throughout the action, she maintained a sort of regal pride that made Hermione the girl she was. "You flatter me too much, please stop," she said with a firm voice.  
  
Sean continued to rub the top of Hermione's hand. "I'm not flattering you. I'm just saying what's on my mind."  
  
Despite herself, Hermione's pride melted away into a smile. "Yeah, I guess you are."  
  
"Flattering you would be telling you that you are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, and that you are the one I've been dreaming of for my entire life," said Sean evenly, looking into Hermione's chocolate brown eyes.  
  
Hermione's face went from red to pale white, and her calm composure turned into one of nervousness and trepidation. Sean could not read the expression behind her eyes, but he instantly regretted telling her as much as he did. He had just laid way too much on her, and although it was in a nearly jesting manner, he meant it,  
  
, and Hermione knew he meant it.  
  
"Sean, look," began Hermione, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to lead you on, I really like you too."  
  
Sean's expression brightened considerably, however, he did not speak, for Hermione's eyes told him that she was not done.  
  
"But," she said. "I just don't feel that strongly for you, as you seem to for me."  
  
Sean felt a bit of humility rushing back into his chest and sitting on his stomach like an anvil. There was an awkward silence between the two, but despite the tension, Hermione's hand continued to rub his shoulder, and he still stroked the top of it with his own fingers.  
  
"It's ok," said Sean at last. "Relationships aren't built in a day. You are worth waiting for, Hermione."  
  
As if that was the last straw, Hermione removed her arm from his shoulder, bent over and kissed him upon the cheek softly. "I've got to hit the library, Sean," she said, as she withdrew her lips from his cheek. "Can we," Hermione's face flushed scarlet, and her lip trembled. "Do you,"  
  
Sean smiled at her. "Very much so. Let's meet tonight in the common room, and we can talk."  
  
Hermione laughed with nervous tension. "Yes, lets. I'll see you tonight then."  
  
Sean did not speak, but the smile upon his round, freckled face said all he needed to.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Look Ron," snapped Harry, following his best friend. "As your best friend it is my duty to inform you that you've gone from being a pillock to an asshole, and this has got to stop."  
  
Ron remained silent as he stormed up to the Gryffindor Common room.  
  
"What in BLOODY HELL is going on, Ron?" shouted Harry, storming up the stairs, nearly bumping aside Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, who were on their way down to dinner.  
  
"Oh how cute," said Parvati with a slight giggle. "Another lover's quarrel, Harry?"  
  
"Sod off!" shouted both boys, nearly blowing her hair back with the force of their voices.  
  
"High spirited one at that," snorted Lavender, completely unabashed by the fierce retort. Both girls broke into a chorus of giggles as they rounded the bottom of the steps and started for the great hall.  
  
"Why is it always Sean?" snapped Ron, wheeling about to face Harry. His hand gripped the banister of the steps in a white-knuckled deathgrip. For the first time Harry could ever remember, his voice was cracked with sorrow. If Harry didn't know better, he would have guessed that Ron was on the verge of tears. "I had to work all summer before Fred and George would buy me dress robes. Why did they just hand him something twice as valuable? What has HE done that is so special!"  
  
Harry shrugged angrily. "That doesn't matter. I'm not talking about Sean. I'm talking about you."  
  
Ron turned around, swallowing angrily. Harry wore a completely dumbfounded expression, Ron WAS about to cry! In all the times Harry had ever known him, he had never cried openly.  
  
"I'm always second, Harry. Whenever there is a problem, it's my fault. Sean and I don't get along because of me. Hermione likes Sean more because of me, you trust Hermione and Sean with Draco's story more than me,"  
  
Harry put his hands to his hips. "Ron, what is this really all about? You know I'm your best friend, and that's not second to anyone."  
  
Ron turned around, shaking his head. Their forward motion up the winding, shifting staircases of Gryffindor tower had stopped. He looked down to his shoes.  
  
"I'm in love with Hermione, Harry, and it's so painful to see Hermione and Sean in the same room, let alone sitting next to each other."  
  
If this answer shocked Harry in the least bit, it did not show.  
  
"That's great, Ron," said Harry, not hiding a lot of disdain. "But you are telling the wrong person. Why are you so afraid of rejection?"  
  
"Because," said Ron. "I know it is a certainty! I mean, what do we have in common? Nothing, she is all about books and I love Quiddich."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "A certainty? Did the alignment of Saturn to Mars this month tell you that, or are you just clairvoyant?"  
  
Ron bit his lip coyly. "I know Hermione just as well as you do. If she was interested in me, she would have given SOME sort of clue."  
  
"Oh right," said Harry gruffly. "Just like the amazingly affectionate clues you been giving her, dismembering her and biting her head off whenever she puts the letters S, E, A and N anywhere within the same sentence!"  
  
"You aren't helping, Harry," said Ron darkly, turning around.  
  
Yet, a forceful arm grabbed Ron's shoulder and swung him back. Harry was glaring at him with a very fiercely controlled anger in his eyes.  
  
"I'm beyond trying to help you, Ron. Now, I'm telling you what is going to happen," trailed off Harry ominously.  
  
Ron narrowed his blue eyes. "Oh, is that how it's going to be now?"  
  
Harry ignored him. "You are going to tell Hermione how you feel and you are going to leave Sean be if you cannot get along with him. You are going to stop making me decide between three of my friends all the time. It is getting aggravating, and I've got my own problems right now.... and don't need you, Hermione and Sean in a volatile love triangle that I have to keep from detonating ferociously every bleeding dinner!"  
  
Ron's cold expression melted away as he shyly buried his hands into the folds of his robes. He bit his lip and readjusted his look on Harry from hotheaded anger to sincere compassion.  
  
"She's still not talking to you, is she?" asked Ron, completely out of the blue.  
  
Harry bit his lip in frustration, and did not speak for a moment. Finally he lowered his head, as the anger drained from his system  
  
"No," he said bitterly. "She isn't."  
  
Ron sighed and turned around, continuing his ascension up the stairs. "Come on, let's get out of here."  
  
With a weak nod, the two best friends finished the hike up the stairs of the Gryffindor tower, and, after muttering the password weakly, passed into the Gryffindor Common Room.  
  
"I'm sorry that I've been so erratic," said Ron in a grouchy tone. "I guess between Redetyor, Malfoy, Hermione and Sean, my mind feels like it's on a hamster wheel, always running somewhere, yet moving nowhere."  
  
The Common Room was completely empty, for dinner had not finished yet and every single Gryffindor was likely eating still. Ron and Harry flopped down in opposing, maroon chairs, by the fireplace, preparing themselves to continue their talk.  
  
And then, Harry felt it, a soft touch on the sides of his neck and running down the front of his chest. Ron's eyes widened and Harry did not have to turn around to know who it was.  
  
"Hey, Harry," purred a lovely and extremely welcome voice into his ear. Harry lifted his head slowly and peered into the face that was looking down on him from behind his velvet chair.  
  
Harry's first reaction was of complete disbelief. It was Jessica alright, complete with the Hufflepuff insignia upon her robe. But, on that same token, how could it be? This was the Gryffindor Common Room, and she did not know the password to get in.  
  
Yet, Harry's doubts and inhibitions slowly melted away as she delicately stroked his face.  
  
"How did you get in here?" asked Ron, voicing Harry's question where his trembling lips and tongue-tied mouth failed him. Ron's face was no less shocked than Harry's.  
  
Jessica moved around the side of the chair and sat down in a third chair, in between the both of them.  
  
"Ron," said Jessica, smiling weakly. "Can I talk with Harry for a moment alone?"  
  
Harry rose slowly, his legs shaking a bit. "The other Gryffindors will be, will be coming back soon. Let's go up to my dorm."  
  
Ron's brows arched slightly, and Harry shot him a pleading look. With a smirk, Ron lowered his head and twiddled his thumbs.  
  
"I'd like that," said Jessica shortly. "I, owe you an explanation for how I've treated you the past two weeks."  
  
Jessica helped Harry to his feet, and Harry led her up the stairs to the dorm room all Gryffindor Fifth Years shared, leaving behind a very intrigued and weirded out Ron in their wake. The lovely blonde-haired girl walked gracefully toward Harry's bed, her black robe churning purposefully with the motion. Her straight blonde hair fell down behind her back, seeming as perfect as ever as the candlelight within the room glazed off of it brightly. She sat down upon the bed and looked to Harry, her sparkling blue eyes seeming to gain a life of their own.  
  
"Well?" asked Harry, a bit drably.  
  
Jessica put her palms to the comforter top of Harry's bed. "I managed to charm Seamus into blurting out the password." Jessica then winked. "All magic was involved, do not worry. I did not do anything else."  
  
Harry glared firmly at Jessica. "You charmed him, you mean you put an Imperius Curse on him?"  
  
Jessica shook her head. "I simply gave him the impression that the password to the Gryffindor Common Room wasn't very important and he said it on his own free will."  
  
"Oh, that's much better," muttered Harry, crossing his arms and looking at her. "Comforting to know you can do that, and have no shame in doing it."  
  
Jessica looked momentarily hurt by Harry's word, perhaps just as much as it hurt Harry to say them.  
  
"Harry, I'm so sorry for the way I've been acting," she said softly. "Just, with everything that has been going on, the attack on Draco, the strange vibes of everyone within House Narhassa; it is all scaring me."  
  
And as adamant as Harry thought he was going to be with Jessica, he felt his emotional barrier fall at the first sign of pushing.  
  
With a sigh, Harry sat down next to her, slipping his hand into her own. "Jessica, I'm sorry too. I, I've also been so caught up with those events, plus Ron's been having a hard time, and, maybe I've been insensitive,"  
  
Jessica stared into Harry's eyes and blinked a single time, and Harry lost his train of thought as the words choked in his throat.  
  
"No, Harry," she said. "You are always sensitive. I don't think it is possible for you to be anything but sensitive. I should have told you sooner how I felt about the Narhassa lot, they do not leave me alone."  
  
Harry looked at Jessica with concern. "What do you mean?" A thought crossed his mind as he remembered his talk with Sean in Professor Binns' class. All of the Narhassa students just did not seem to leave Jessica alone. At first, this news had made him a bit suspicious, but now that he was in her presence and about to confess her problems to him, she had his undivided attention.  
  
Jessica sighed and lowered her head, her voice sounding strained. "They try to talk me into doing terrible things, Alex especially. He approached me two weeks ago and asked if I wanted to go with him to hurt Draco Malfoy."  
  
Harry felt a surge of anger within his chest, churning over like magma within a volcano, waiting to erupt.  
  
"It was him," she said softly. "I didn't want to tell anyone, but it was him and two others who attacked Draco. I was afraid what Alex would do to me if he ratted me out. Yet, I cannot help but feel responsible. I should have warned him, I should have DONE something."  
  
With a nod, Harry sucked in some air through his clenched lips. He successfully controlled his rage as Jessica continued.  
  
"What does it all mean, Harry?" she asked, her voice beginning to break. "Why does House Narhassa think I am so ready to do all these terrible things? Am I a bad person?"  
  
Harry, with the gentleness of a kitten, placed his hand under Jessica's chin and tilted her head to look into his eyes.  
  
"You could not be a bad person if you tried," said Harry, a slight smile forming on his face, despite his anger within. "I am here for you, Jess."  
  
A single tear slid down Jessica's face as she threw her arms around him. Harry could feel his body beginning to swell up with passion as he fell onto his back, into the pillows of his bed.  
  
"Thank you so much, Harry," said Jessica softly, as she hugged him closely. "I was so afraid that, that you would be intimidated by me."  
  
Harry pushed Jessica's blonde hair out of his face so that he could better see her. He lifted his finger from his side and wiped away one of her tears gently. "You don't scare me," said Harry softly, his normally reserved expression brightening into a beaming smile.  
  
Jessica laughed, choking back a sob or two in the process. She stared down into Harry's face from her position on top of him. With a soft, deliberate motion, she slid a bang of his messy, black hair out of his face.  
  
"I promise I'll never take you for granted again," said Jessica quietly. "I love you, Harry."  
  
While Harry had been expecting a peaceful make-up and perhaps some action if he were lucky, he was totally taken aback by this. His green eyes widened to the size of saucers, while something darker crept into his soul. Jessica was waiting for him in the Common Room, said everything he wanted her to say, came up to his room, and now he was on the same bed as her, with her telling him she loved him.  
  
Something about this whole encounter seemed so, artificial.  
  
"Jessica," said Harry, about to protest; however before the words could come out of his lungs, her lips were covering his. Artificial or not, his entire body swam with heat as he accepted the kiss and felt Jessica's arms thrown around his neck. It was a completely liberating feeling.  
  
Artificial or not, he was back with his girlfriend.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Get up everyone!" said Sean in a high-pitched voice the next morning. "Quiddich time!"  
  
Harry groggily rubbed his eyes and looked at his clock, which read 6 AM in bold, painful numbers. He would not have awoken this early had this Quiddich game been a Gryffindor game, let alone a Slytherin vs. Narhassa game. Apparently, his feelings were shared with much of his roommates.  
  
"Sean, shut your trap and go back to sleep!" moaned Seamus from somewhere outside of Harry's curtains.  
  
"I swear, I'm going to box you silly and throw you out the window!" shouted Ron in a voice half muffled by what could only be a pillow to his face.  
  
Harry fumbled for his glasses by his dresser and put them on over his face. With a determined grunt, he clambered out of bed. Sean was already dressed, though he was not wearing his school robes. He was dressed in very baggy jeans and a sweatshirt that read UCLA upon the front.  
  
Since today is Saturday, he can probably get away with it, reasoned Harry.  
  
"Hello 'arry!" said Sean exuberantly, impersonating a British accent rather poorly. "Top o' the day to ya, chap!"  
  
Harry arched a brow, looking at Sean strangely. "Did you cock up a Cheering Charm, or are you doped up on smack?"  
  
"Ooh, nothing," said Sean, all but moon walking back to his dresser and pulling out a red and gold scarf. "Ah'm walkin on sunshine, woooah oh!"  
  
Harry's first impression was that Ron had thrown some sort of hex at him. But, instead, all that seemed to be thrown at Sean was a pillow from under Ron's curtain, landing five feet away from him.  
  
"You won't be walking anywhere fast if you don't slam it shut!" groaned Ron from within the curtains of his bed.  
  
Yet, Sean's round face was cracked into one of the brightest smiles Harry had ever seen. Finally, he shook his head and managed a tired, morning grin. He could not deny the amazingly good spirits he was in today as well. His session with Jessica had ended early last night, well before any of his roommates had returned, but he was still riding on clouds.  
  
"Baby, I just want you back, and I want you to stay, ooh yeah!" sang Sean, pushing his way out the door, just in time to avoid pillows thrown by both Dean and Seamus. Harry could not help but laugh as he threw on a black school robe and followed Sean out the door.  
  
"Alright," he said, shutting the door behind him. Maybe it was his imagination, but he felt the door vibrate and emit a spell striking sound, perhaps a Muting Hex that would have smacked Sean in the head. It did not take an Auror to figure out who was the one who might have thrown it. "Explain."  
  
"I'm in love with Hermione," said Sean, dancing in spot and humming the words to Katrina and the Waves - Walking on Sunshine, after his quip.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. I've gotten that one enough between yesterday and today.  
  
"Well, that's great Sean," said Harry, trying to stifle a yawn. "Why don't you tell her how you feel," continued Harry, thinking he was perhaps turning into a broken record.  
  
Sean continued to dance in place. "I did," and then continuing his energetic humming  
  
Harry arched his brows. "And, judging by your incessant singing, humming and dancing to a bad 80s song, the reaction was favorable?"  
  
"Oh yeah, oh yeah, it just feels good!" said Sean, not missing a step in his dance routine. "Come on Harry, you know the words!"  
  
"I'm not singing," replied Harry dourly.  
  
"Come on, Harry! You know you want to,"  
  
"Like I want a double block Potions Class," said Harry sternly, but a grin on his face hinted that he could not play the role of the serious Professor for long. "So what happened?"  
  
Sean finally stopped dancing in place and rubbed the back of his hair. "Well, we met in the Common Room last night, after everyone had went to bed. She wanted to tell me that she had never met anyone quite like me, and then, I was like blah blah blah, and she said that she says she want to give it a shot with me, and then, I was like blah blah blah,  
  
"Sounds like a very heartfelt conversation," said Harry, hiding a chuckle.  
  
"Oh, you know it!" said Sean, resuming his dance. "Come on Harry, dance with me!"  
  
"Do I have to turn your legs to jelly?" asked Harry, with no trace of seriousness in his voice. "I will, you know."  
  
Sean smiled, finally regaining a bit of composure. "Anyway, let's go grab some breakfast. I'm dying to see how Quiddich works!"  
  
Just as they entered the Common Room, however, a very strange sight startled Harry. The portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Professor McGonagall entered the room, looking extremely grim and stern. In all his years of living in the Gryffindor Tower, the number of times he had seen Professor McGonagall in the Common Room could have been counted on one hand.  
  
"Morning!" chirped Sean happily, waving the old woman. Apparently, he did not see this as strange.  
  
"Mr. Camaradi," she said sternly. "Take a shower, go back to bed, get some breakfast or otherwise make yourself scarce."  
  
Sean's smile waned at the sharp words, but upon seeing Harry's grim expression and a nod in his direction, Sean continued past the both of them and out of the Common Room.  
  
"See you at the game, then, Harry."  
  
Harry did not manage to work up the fortitude to nod or say goodbye to Sean as he stared into Professor McGonagall's stern eyes, only enhanced all the more by her square spectacles.  
  
"What's going on, Professor?" asked Harry nervously.  
  
"You are to come with me, Harry," she stated darkly. "Lupin wants a word with you, right now."  
  
The gravity of Professor McGonagall's words never were lost on Harry,  
  
though these words seemed to sit upon him like a loadstone, making his legs weak. His head spun with nervousness.  
  
Did she find out about Jessica in his room?  
  
"Come," she said, as she lead a very shaky Harry out of the Common Room.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
I know I promised Quiddich and a reply from Sirius this chapter, but, with all the information that has been released between Malfoy's conversation, Harry's extended conversation with Ron, and Professor Binns' lecture, I think Sirius' input can wait a bit. Instead, some shameless snogging and developing/breaking of the love triangles seemed like a nice change of pace.  
  
Next Chapter: Quiddich! (I promise). Did McGonagall find out about Harry's little date in his bed, or perhaps his trip to the Hufflepuff Common Room? Are Sean and Ron going to have a duel to the death? Will a Sean/Hermione ship work out? And what about Redetyor, he was rather quiet this chapter, What's he up to? Stay Tuned! 


	13. Evil Comes in Many Forms

A/N: Would just like to thank all those who reviewed this story on Schnoogle, at FictionAlley.com! You guys inspired me to keep writing and posting my work. I hope you all like this story here as well! Please read and review, it's how I get my kicks after work. If you hate the story or are bored with it, please tell me why. While I love good reviews, I only learn from bad ones.  
  
Chapter 13: Evil Comes in Many Forms  
  
The trip to Professor Lupin's office was a blur to Harry, who had been pouring over about a dozen possible reasons Professor McGonagall was on her way to fetch Harry at such an early hour in the morning. Before he even knew it, the older woman dressed in an elaborate green robe, looked down to Harry.  
  
"Professor Lupin wishes to speak to you alone," she said crisply. "I do not know what this is about, but it is serious, Mr. Potter." Her grave face finally showed a hint of compassion. "I shall see you at the game today."  
  
A wave of relief washed over Harry's body like a liberating tied of an ocean of problems. He could not help but exhale violently; he had not realized it, but he had been holding his breath for nearly a minute.  
  
"Yes, Professor. The game," said Harry, fumbling over his tongue like it were a trip wire.  
  
McGonagall nodded and turned about slowly, walking down the hallway with a methodical swish of her robes. With an uneasy hand, Harry knocked upon the door to Lupin's office.  
  
"Come in, Harry," called the familiar voice of his Defense against the Dark Arts teacher.  
  
Harry twisted the knob and walked into the room, pushing the door wide,  
  
, and his jaw profoundly dropped.  
  
From behind Lupin's desk, the shabby looking, sandy haired man sat back, rocking in his cushioned chair. His office was as Harry remembered it, two years ago. Several dark arts objects were visible, scattered about with little organization, along with many beautifully carved pieces. Upon one wall off the room, shelves of books greeted Harry's eyes with some of the more unique titles Harry had ever seen.  
  
And in front of Lupin's desk, sat Sirius Black.  
  
He was looking as refined as Harry had ever seen him, with his wild black hair finally tamed into a ponytail that ran down his back. With exception to Bill Weasley's red hair, Sirius could have passed for his twin brother. He was not wearing a robe, but a thick black leather trench coat. A dragon fang earring drooped down from his left ear, but that was not the most distinctive thing about him. Upon his feet, he wore bright red leather boots that seemed to give off a small amount of light. Harry's first reaction was that his red boots clashed so violently with his black coat that Sirius must have heeded a fashion tip from Dobby the house elf.  
  
"Alright there, Harry," said Sirius, with a stout salute. "Oh, here," With a deft flick of his wrist, he produced a small package from the inside pocket of his trench coat, covered in colorful blue wrapping paper. It was thin enough to be clenched by one hand, but was about a foot long. "Belated Happy Birthday."  
  
"Sirius?" exclaimed Harry, still resembling a human flycatcher with his jaw nearly dropped to his toes.  
  
"Who did you expect?" asked the darkly dressed man. "Britney Spears?"  
  
Lupin smirked from behind his desk. "Well, technically, it is not Sirius anymore, right?"  
  
Sirius returned Lupin's smirk. He looked back to Harry, with an artificially intense look.  
  
"I am Slash, Slash Padfoot, hit-wizard for hire." Sirius then smiled, with a laugh escaping his lips. "Or, that's at least what people need to think."  
  
Harry continued to blink in utter confusion while Lupin sat back in his chair, poorly concealing a laugh. Sirius pulled out the second chair on the other side of Lupin's desk.  
  
"Sit down, Harry. I've not seen you for the better part of a year. Let's talk."  
  
Harry managed to find his legs, and sat down in the chair next to Sirius. "It's, see to great you, Sirius," bumbled Harry, still in a rather alternate state of mind. It was barely past six in the morning, and the feelings of confusion, relief and joy were feebilizing his brain at the moment.  
  
Sirius laughed with amusement, sitting back in his chair.  
  
"So, what are you doing here?" asked Harry, after some order came to his churning brain.  
  
"Three things," said Sirius with a grin, as he turned over the package in his hands. "Since I am about five months late for your birthday, I figured a present by owl wouldn't cut it."  
  
He extended the present to Harry, who accepted, his eyes never leaving Sirius.  
  
"Two," said Sirius evenly, producing a crinkled up paper from one of his pockets on the front of his jacket. "I got your rather distressing letter concerning Narhassa."  
  
"Yeah," said Harry sullenly. "I was wondering about that."  
  
Lupin nodded, remaining respectfully silent.  
  
"And, finally, three, to check up and see how you are doing," finished Sirius.  
  
Harry finally came to perfect order of his mind. What had started out being a potentially terrifying day had turned out to be the start of one of his most memorable and happy days of his life.  
  
"I'm doing absolutely great, Sirius," said Harry. "What's with the whole, Slash Padfoot thing?"  
  
Lupin cackled from across the desk. "Oh, you will love this Harry. Tell him."  
  
Sirius scratched the top of his head reluctantly. "Well, you are right about some things and wrong about others," said Sirius. "The first part of my task was to 'rally the old Order of the Phoenix' as you so keenly mentioned in the letter. I finished that inside of a week. Upon hearing the news of Voldemort's resurrection, each and every member of the Order of the Phoenix was very willing to give their support to Dumbledore again."  
  
Harry nodded and gripped the tops of his knees energetically.  
  
"The second part of my task was to use my underworld notoriety as a multi- murderer to win the trust of the Dark Wizard Underground, an organization of murderers, thieves, outlaws and terrorists as well as Voldemort junkies and supporters. Not a fun crowd, the dementors have better personalities, I must say. Also, they are really lousy Quiddich players, my dear Lord. Anyway, Slash Padfoot was the name that Dumbledore and I agreed would be my alias for the time being."  
  
Lupin nodded slowly, trying to hide his amusement. "Yes, they play Russian Quiddich in the underground. The beaters do not have bats, they have sledgehammers, and bludgers don't exist, do they?"  
  
Sirius tilted his head from side to side, as if weighing Lupin's words. "Eh, more or less."  
  
"Sounds like you've had a rough few months," said Harry sadly. "Remind me to never play Quiddich should I go to Russia."  
  
"On the contrary," said Sirius brightly. "It's been fairly good fun. Beats living as a dog and stealing candy in Hogsmeade to survive. It is also amazing some of the things available underground, and the prices are simply rock bottom. Where do you think I got your present from?"  
  
Harry turned over the package Sirius had handed to him. He looked up to his godfather, and the slick-haired man nodded. Lupin also leaned forward energetically.  
  
With a firm tug, Harry freed the very long and extremely malleable present from its wrappings and unfolded it. It was a strange sort of shimmering belt, bright red, the exact color of Sirius' boots.  
  
"Err, thanks!" said Harry, trying his best to seem extremely appreciative. I cannot seriously wear this ANYWHERE! He thought at the same time.  
  
Sirius, apparently having a knack for detecting the true emotions behind words, simply smirked. "It is a Red Dragon hide belt. Not only does it make you look rather fashionable within the, saucy part of town, but it protects you from fire." Sirius pointed down to his bright red boots. "Useful in the line of work I'm pretending to be in."  
  
Now, Harry's attention was a bit peaked as he stroked the belt with his hand.  
  
"It's warm," noticed Harry as he ran his fingers across the leathery hide belt. Indeed, it felt like he was touching the side of a mug of hot chocolate.  
  
"Aye," agreed Sirius. "They are also extremely in demand up in Iceland and Greenland, as well as in Canada for their warmth as much as the fire protection deal."  
  
Before Harry could say anything else, Sirius looked over to Lupin.  
  
"I am surprised you did not come to me directly, Harry," said Lupin calmly, looking at Harry. "You do remember that House Narhassa is, well, my house. Any concerns you had could have been addressed to me."  
  
In truth, Harry had completely forgotten that Dumbledore had placed Lupin in charge of House Narhassa.  
  
"My concern isn't really House Narhassa. It is the sixth year who was sorted into Slytherin."  
  
Sirius smirked slightly. "The Destroyer."  
  
"Pardon?" asked Harry, cocking his head.  
  
It was now Sirius' turn to look at Harry with shock. "Are you kidding me? Hermione did not figure that one out? Take the name "Seth Redetyor" and play around with the letters, and you get "The Destroyer."  
  
Lupin looked at Sirius with a sarcastic expression. "What are you playing at, Slash Wizardkiller? I figured that one out. You had no idea."  
  
Sirius looked back to Lupin, his brown eyes flickering with amusement. "Don't me make smack you upside the head, Moony."  
  
Harry, indeed, fooled around with the letters inside his head and realized it made sense. If Sirius had his undivided attention before, it was nothing compared to the level of focus he had now.  
  
"Do you have any more information about Narhassa for me?" asked Harry, on the edge of his seat.  
  
Sirius laughed. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you gave yourself a quest to uncover every mystery in the world."  
  
Harry smirked at the irony in that statement. Sometimes, he felt that was not far from the truth.  
  
"The underground isn't really the best place to find out stuff like that," confessed Sirius. "But, you may be interested to know that most of Voldemort's supporters are just as clueless as we are when it comes to the topic of the Narhassa Muggles. Whoever "The Destroyer" is, he is definitely a naughty boy up to no good, and many are looking to stop him, dark wizards, Deatheaters, and fifth year Gryffindors."  
  
Harry clicked his tongue. "How has he stayed at large then, with that sort seeking his head? I mean, I had him helpless before me with a simple Stunning charm."  
  
Sirius sighed and sat back. "What he lacks in raw power, he makes up for with brains. Not a single dark wizard or Deatheater would dare brave Albus Dumbledore's wrath by stepping foot into this school with hostile intention. He picked the right place to plan, he did."  
  
"Oh," murmured Harry, sighing. "Professor Lupin, can't you do something?"  
  
Lupin shrugged helplessly. "Harry, we have no proof he is doing anything wrong. I am sure Dumbledore would be interested to know about "The Destroyer", but I'm sure Remus J. Lupin spells something too if you screw around with it enough. It's not proof that he is about to do something evil, it's a teasing taunt that he is."  
  
Harry sighed and dejectedly looked at the red belt in his hands. He wanted to tell them about Draco's story, but was afraid that they would tell Dumbledore. If that were to happen, Draco would be killed, and while Harry wouldn't shed too many tears, Harry did not want another death on his conscience.  
  
Cedric Diggory was enough,  
  
Sirius folded his arms across the front of his black leather jacket and broke the silence. "While I don't have much information about Seth Redetyor, I do have some information from the world of Voldemort that you might be interested in."  
  
Lupin also crossed his arms. "Oh really? When were you planning on telling me this, Slash?"  
  
Sirius looked to Lupin with a smirk. "I wasn't, but since you are such a noisy bastard, it looks like I have no choice, now do I?"  
  
"Mother always said to stick with your talents," said Lupin, bowing his head and saluting Sirius.  
  
"What is it already?" asked Harry, his excitement taking the reigns behind his brain.  
  
"Well, Voldemort apparently punished Lucius Malfoy at a recent Deatheater meeting, a month or two after," Sirius trailed off slightly, looking to Harry. ", after, the tournament. He also said something about one of his Death Eaters abandoning him."  
  
Harry scratched his chin. "Snape, right?"  
  
Sirius shook his head. "No, Snape and the other one, Karkaroff, are yesterday's news apparently. One of my associates in the underground, a real piece of work Death Eater named Marcos Durand, said that it was someone else." Sirius leaned forward slyly with a grin. "Though, he has no idea that I know his Death Eater status."  
  
"Well, why was Malfoy punished?" asked Lupin airily.  
  
Sirius looked from Harry to Lupin. "Malfoy apparently allowed this Deatheater into his home, before his betrayal was known, and was allowed to make off with one of Voldemort's most prized relics that Malfoy apparently was safeguarding."  
  
Harry's eyes suddenly widened with realization. He remembered his conversation with Hermione a week ago, and his most recent recantation of Draco's story to Ron, just yesterday. "Oh, let me guess, a Sorolith."  
  
Sirius cocked his head. "Have you actually been paying attention in Divination Class, or are you just psychic?"  
  
"Neither," said Harry quickly. "Long story. Anyway, who was this Death Eater who betrayed Voldemort?"  
  
Lupin also leaned forward, his interest perked.  
  
"His name was Garret Spencer, a dealer in ancient antiquities."  
  
Harry indeed remembered the name Spencer from that horrible night, a few months ago. Of the thirty or so Deatheater's present, he keenly remembered most of their names, seeing as how he had replayed every moment of that night in his dreams countless times.  
  
Harry explained to Sirius and Lupin what the Sorolith was capable of as he had heard from Hermione.  
  
"I think it is safe to say that he did not steal the Sorolith for resale value," said Lupin with a sarcastic grunt.  
  
Sirius, Lupin and Harry talked a bit longer, tossing off ideas and commenting on each other's suggestions. After nearly an hour of conversation and getting nowhere fast, Harry stood up and politely excused himself. He would be meeting his friends for breakfast soon, and the Quiddich game would be starting shortly after.  
  
"Listen, Harry," said Sirius, as he stood up also. "I won't have a chance to write you much this year. I am already due back to the underground, and any longer would put my position in jeopardy. I want you to tell Lupin anything that is troubling you. He knows more about this Dark Arts stuff than I do, hence the reason why he's teaching you."  
  
"Sure, Sirius," said Harry with a nod.  
  
And then an awkward moment passed between them. Should he offer Sirius a handshake, or should he hug him? In truth, only four people had hugged Harry in his entire life: Ron, Hermione, Hagrid and Jessica. It seemed like such an immense show of affection that he was not sure if it was appropriate. Sirius also seemed to be sensing the awkward moment in between them. After another second or two, Sirius extended his hand forward.  
  
"Take care of yourself, Harry. Alright?"  
  
Harry took Sirius hand and shook it firmly. "You too, Sirius. Be safe."  
  
Sirius let go of Harry's hand, and, without another word, turned back to Lupin. "I'll be leaving, Moony. Don't go and get a life on me."  
  
Lupin laughed and simply sat back in his chair. Harry had never seen Lupin laugh or be as expressive with his emotions as he was now. It was almost like Lupin and Sirius were kids that were Harry's age. They could have been just as easily talking about Quiddich or Exploding Snap.  
  
"Don't let the fire burn your arse on the way out, Slash," returned Lupin.  
  
Sirius smirked as he walked over to the fireplace within Lupin's office, no doubt preparing to Floo Powder his way out. Harry knew as well as any that Apparting did not work in Hogwarts, though Floo Powder chimneys could be used for short periods at a time, so long as a proper Professor authorized it.  
  
Without another word, Sirius threw the powder into the fire, stepped within, and vanished.  
  
That must have been how it was with Sirius and Lupin, realized Harry. No serious good-byes, no 'be safes', just a joke and a laugh, and the thought they would see each other again, thought Harry.  
  
Lupin looked back to Harry, his face returning to its usual sallow expression, as if he knew consciously that his time to joke had come to an end.  
  
"Best get some breakfast, Harry," said Lupin with an emotionless nod. "I will see you at the game."  
  
Harry nodded and left Lupin's office without another word.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
After a tense breakfast, where Harry had to glare more than once at Ron to keep him in line, the four teenagers rose and left the school for the Quiddich fields, within the flock of people moving.  
  
At the start of the meal, Harry had decided to keep the nature of his meeting with Sirius and Lupin confidential until after the Quiddich game today. He simply did not feel like talking about it, and wanted to enjoy the up and coming game.  
  
The day was clear, but rather cold. It was the start of October, and already, the weather seemed to be hinting at a rather severe winter. Each student was bundled tightly, wearing scarves to support their house colors.  
  
"I wonder who is going to win," said Harry with a laugh, trying desperately to break the ice.  
  
"I think Slytherin will have this one," said Ron coldly, glaring at Sean. "I have to think Muggles have a disadvantage playing this game... cause, well, they are Muggles, OW!"  
  
Hermione grit her teeth as she removed the heel of her shoe from Ron's toe. Sean glared back at Ron, apparently growing weary of taking his comments with salt.  
  
"I think Narhassa will win," said Sean, with equal chill to his voice. "Because those in Slytherin are pompous ass wizards who simply underestimate us too much to take us seriously, oh wait, those guys aren't JUST in Slytherin, are they?"  
  
"Us?" retorted Ron, "I didn't realize you see yourself as a Narhassa boy. Perhaps you are evil like them, too."  
  
Sean bit his lip and narrowed his eyes. "You can antagonize me all you want. It won't make you the better person, asshole."  
  
"Why you little," sneered Ron, as he made a move for his wand.  
  
Harry was quick to grab Ron by his wrist while Hermione made a similar move on Sean.  
  
"Will you stop it, Ron?" growled Harry, his face no more than inches from Ron's.  
  
"Sean," coaxed Hermione, who had grabbed Sean's wrist when he attempted to lift it, no doubt to use some magic. "Please don't."  
  
Sean backed down quickly, lowering his hands, while Ron fought Harry's grip for a moment. Finally, he desisted, and Harry released him.  
  
"Shake his hand, now!" barked Harry angrily.  
  
Ron glared back at Harry, but sighed. Sean looked to Hermione pleadingly, but she seemed equally firm.  
  
"Just do it," she said.  
  
Ron looked down at the smaller boy angrily, and extended his hand. Sean took his hand and shook it once firmly, and, as if both boys were touching hot iron, withdrew just as quickly. Their angry expressions still remained, however.  
  
And, with tensions as sharp as a knife, they entered the elevated Quiddich arena. As if by magic, (and most likely a cause of it as well) the Quiddich Arena had been expanded to include another section for all those of House Narhassa. Harry did not know how it came to be, but there were now five equally large sections, able to seat all the houses evenly.  
  
The four teenagers moved close to the railing overlying the field several dozen feet below, within the Gryffindor section. Harry gripped the cold iron tightly and balanced himself against the whipping wind that was racing around the arena.  
  
"Ladies and Gentlemen," began Lee Jordan, the seventh-year Gryffindor announcer. "Welcome to the first Quiddich Match of the new term! Today will prove to be difficult, with the racing wind from the southwest. The snitch will be particularly invisible today. It will truly be a test for the new Narhassa team to have their first game against a battle-hardened, frosty, and cheating Slytherin team!"  
  
"MR. JORDAN!" shouted Professor McGonagall's voice over the crowd.  
  
"Ah, it feels right good to hear you say that Professor! I missed that for the better part of two years!" said Jordan boisterously, drawing a laugh from most of the Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. Even Professor McGonagall had to hide a chuckle, putting a tender hand to her lips.  
  
Harry chuckled as well, but the laugh choked out of his mouth when suddenly, he felt two arms upon his sides, wrapping around his waist.  
  
"Must you always do that?" asked Harry good-naturedly, as he turned around.  
  
Jessica smiled brightly from underneath her wizard's cap. She was wearing a Hufflepuff yellow and silver scarf, as well as her million-dollar smile.  
  
"I must," she said sweetly, as she released him and stood by his side. "Hey Sean," she said sweetly.  
  
Sean said nothing and lowered his head, drawing suspicious looks from Ron and Hermione.  
  
"So, who do you think will win?" asked Jessica, snuggling up close to Harry.  
  
Harry shrugged. "Heard the Narhassa team has been practicing up a storm," said the emerald eyed boy. "Perhaps they know their stuff."  
  
Sean and Hermione began a quiet conversation, while Ron gripped the rod iron balcony, staring down upon the field in silence. It almost made Harry wince, for he did not want his best friend to feel like a fifth wheel.  
  
"Maybe," said Jessica. "Though Slytherin has a good Seeker, no?"  
  
Harry smirked and looked down to Jessica. "Right, he flies about as well as a penguin."  
  
Jessica laughed and playfully punched him in the side. "Yeah, especially with his injuries, huh?"  
  
This caused Harry's smirk to fade from his face as he looked down upon the field. "Yeah, his injuries," he murmured. "So, Ron, are you ready for your tri-outs this afternoon?"  
  
Ron glared down at the field. "I'm not going to try out."  
  
This caused Hermione and Sean to cease their conversation and look at Ron. This also caused Harry to do a double take. "What?"  
  
"You've been waiting your whole life to play Keeper for the Gryffindor team," said Hermione, sounding very genuine.  
  
Ron continued staring hard at the field, and did not say anything.  
  
"What's wrong with Ron?" whispered Jessica to Harry.  
  
Harry shrugged in defeat. Any answer he was about to give was interrupted by the sounds of trumpeting which signified the start of the Quiddich game.  
  
"And now, the Slytherin team takes the field! Stealing the Gryffindor idea for an all female chaser front, we have 7th year Masterson, 5th year Zambini, and 1st year Waitskin, who is the youngest female player to ever start as a Chaser on the Slytherin team in fifty years!"  
  
The Slytherins let up a rowdy cheer, while the other houses begrudgingly gave staggered applause at best.  
  
"And Captain Malfoy, showing a serious preference for age over beauty, has selected his personal cronies to be his Beaters! Let's give a warm welcome to 5th years Crabbe and Goyle, fresh out of their stay to the hospital wing!"  
  
No one, not even Slytherin House, gave much cheer.  
  
"And now, for Slytherin's second-year Keeper, let's hear it for Malcolm Baddock!  
  
With the exception of the Slytherins, the arena seemed lulled by an amazing calm.  
  
"And finally, let's hear it for Slytherin Seeker and Team Captain, Draco Malfoy!"  
  
The boos chorused around the arena like wildfire as the Slytherin team marched out on the field, lead by Draco and flanked as always by Crabbe and Goyle. Harry's first impression was that he wondered if Crabbe and Goyle would be able to get off the ground. They were clad, as always, in their green robes and looking exceptionally grim.  
  
"Golly, listen to the crowd. They all sure do love this Slytherin team, let me tell you. Malfoy, in his amazing career as Slytherin Seeker, statistically has actually caught more Bludgers than Snitches! Congratulations Malfoy, on a job well blotched!"  
  
"That, will, do,!" Professor McGonagall shouted in between fits of giggling. Harry knew that Professor McGonagall, while always a strict disciplinarian during class and out of class, allowed her role as Head of Gryffindor House to slip somewhat during a Quiddich match, and have a little fun.  
  
Draco fired a look that could kill a medusa toward Lee Jordan, who had everyone around him holding there gut, barely able to keep their seats.  
  
Harry grabbed onto Ron's arm to keep himself steady while he laughed himself hoarse. Ron was doing no better as Hermione held him by the back of his shirt, for fear that he would fall out of the balcony and down to the field below.  
  
"And now, I am proud to introduce the first ever House Narhassa Quiddich Team! Starting as Chasers, we have, 5th year Franklin, 4th year Thompson, and 3rd year Malacardi!"  
  
Not bothering to walk, the three Narhassa Chasers zoomed out of the other locker room, doing laps above an impatient looking Slytherin team. The Narhassa team had selected platinum white for team colors, and zoomed around like silvery blurs on top of their brooms.  
  
"And starting as beaters we have two 3rd years who seem to know their business, give it up 3rd year Trahvis and 3rd year Du'Witt!"  
  
Two more platinum white blurs joined the lapping Chasers, including the pale looking boy named Bradley that Harry recognized from the train.  
  
"He's a Beater?" asked Ron, with an arched brow. "Didn't he seem a bit too feminine to be a beater? I graduated from Yaahback, with a 4.0 GPA and am now hoping to study at the Hogwarts University,"  
  
Harry chuckled. "Looks can be deceiving, I guess."  
  
"As Keeper, we have none other than 1st year Timothy McDermott, the youngest person of any age to play as Keeper since, well, since Former Gryffindor Captain Oliver Wood; but before him, there wasn't a first year Keeper for any House since 1933!"  
  
At the mention of Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor's cheering overcame that of even House Narhassa's.  
  
"And introducing the Captain of this young Narhassa team, give a warm welcome to 5th year Seeker Alex Guardings!"  
  
Jessica broke into loud cheers, while Ron, Harry and Hermione exchanged sour expressions. Sean's eyes also widened.  
  
"He never told me he was practicing Quiddich,"  
  
Alex, not following suite with his more energetic companions, strolled out onto the field purposely, in his silver uniform with his broom thrown over his shoulders arrogantly.  
  
It appeared that House Narhassa was the favored House, as every house that was not Slytherin let up a loud cheer. Alex strolled in front of the serious looking Slytherin team by himself and examined them like he were examining flies. Malfoy glared at him with a look of sheer hatred, while Crabbe and Goyle looked on the verge of breaking their broomsticks over his head.  
  
Alex spun about, flapping his arms in the air and inciting the crowd. It seemed that everyone save Harry, Ron and Hermione were affected, as the cheering built in crescendo, with nearly every house hooting and hollering.  
  
Finally, the other Narhassa players fell in next to Alex, dismounting their brooms and staring down the Slytherin team, while Madam Hooch seemed to take her time walking out onto the field with the quaffle, the bludgers and the snitch.  
  
"Blimey," whispered Ron to Harry, apparently forgetting to sulk. "Seems like this is going to be one tense game. You ever seen Malfoy looking like that?"  
  
Harry saw Malfoy and Alex, eyes locked, in pure hatred.  
  
"Yeah," said Harry. "It's how Malfoy always looks. He does not bother to hate with moderation."  
  
Madam Hooch took up position between the two teams and spoke up in her magically enhanced voice. "I want a clean game. Unnecessary roughness and physical contact will result in penalties. Captains, shake hands."  
  
Draco and Alex approached each other slowly. Harry was not sure what was more likely: Draco to shake Alex's hand, or perform the Killing curse upon him right then and there.  
  
Slowly, Draco extended his hand, and despite Harry's spot in the stands, he could see Draco's eyes sparkling with sheer malice. Alex extended his hand as well. Draco attempted to grab it, to make the shake end quickly.  
  
Alex withdrew his hand and rubbed the back of his head arrogantly, a wry grin upon his face.  
  
A chorus of "Ooooooohs!" omitted from all around the arena and, despite Harry being quite removed from the scene, could feel Malfoy's outrage.  
  
"Captains, SHAKE HANDS!" shouted Madam Hooch, her voices ringing across the field. "Mr. Guardings, you will shake hands with Mr. Malfoy, or your team will take a penalty shot."  
  
Alex snorted and laughed, his own voice somehow becoming enhanced like Madam Hooch's. "Fine. Like it matters."  
  
And the game began without a kick-off from the ground, as the keepers casually took up their positions and the chasers ringed around the Narhassa goal, while Draco and Alex both flew into the air. The Bludgers and the Snitch were released and the quaffle was handed to Blaise Zambini.  
  
"Oh, and how about this for pre-game Drama, instead of a midfield punch off, Slytherin Chaser Zambini starts off with a penalty shot on the little Timothy McDermott, all because Captain Guardings refused to shake hands with Captain Malfoy!" blared Lee Jordan. "Hostilities between the two captains must run really high, this will be a tense game! And Slytherin, MISSES!"  
  
Harry's rubbed his eyes slightly, watching the blurs on the other side of the field.  
  
"Was it just me," began Sean, whispering to Hermione, yet still loud enough to be heard by Harry, "or did she throw that, really slowly?"  
  
Hermione shrugged uncaringly. She had already sat down in the first row behind Harry, with Sean at her side. It was obviously she did not enjoy Quiddich, especially when Gryffindor wasn't playing.  
  
"Yeah," noticed Jessica, apparently also hearing Sean. "Seemed like too easy of a save, didn't it?"  
  
"Narhassa's possession, Thompson to Malacardi to Franklin to Mala, SCORE! Narhassa takes the lead 10 to 0. Did you see how fast that Quaffle flew! Baddock was way behind that!"  
  
Harry blinked, barely able to register that goal.  
  
"Geez! They are good!" said Sean in amazement.  
  
Ron glared as one of the Slytherin girls took the Quaffle. "Or they are cheating,"  
  
"And Zambini works the ball up the middle, passes it off to Masterson, to Waitskin, and, Oh my dear god, watch out for those Bludgers!"  
  
Harry outstretched his palm to block the morning sun, and watched with disbelief as two bludgers came at the younger girl, who barely had time to roll under both of them. It was almost like they had coordinated an attack upon her.  
  
And they did not relent. Bradley and the other Beater zoomed into alignment, and drove another two punishing shots at the young Chaser, who dropped the Quaffle in her attempt to escape the savage Beaters.  
  
"Happy Christmas, look what I just found, Malaca, Frank, SCORE! Narhassa up by another 10! If I didn't know it, I would say they were the Bulgaria International team!"  
  
"Slytherin possession, Masterson working up the, Ahhh! There come the Bludgers, OH, THAT'S GOTTA HURT! Narhassa Po, SCORE!"  
  
"Come on ref!" shouted Ron angrily. "They are cheating!"  
  
Harry looked to Ron. "But how?"  
  
"Those Bludgers have not even made a single attempt at any Narhassa player!"  
  
Indeed it was true. Harry continued to watch with a mixed emotions as the Slytherin Chasers could not even make it to half court before both bludgers dove at the one holding the Quaffle simultaneously, either smacking them in the chest, or otherwise making the fumble the Quaffle.  
  
"The Slytherin Chasers cannot get anywhere without those third year Beaters on the Narhassa team simply stuffing them like canned tuna! Crabbe and Goyle need to start adding more to this game, or this will be the greatest upset in recent, Narhassa Scores!, recent Slytherin History."  
  
After only five minutes of playing, House Narhassa was in the lead sixty to zero.  
  
"And once again, Zambini tries to take the quaffle out and, heads up! Oooh, that's not pretty!"  
  
This time, the bludger had caught her square in the face, sending her toppling off her broom, falling nearly fifty feet, and landing with a thud on the ground.  
  
"Get out the Medi-wizards, because that Slytherin sidewinder just got defanged!" commented Jordan in a pained voice. "Oh boy, now that the Slytherin's are down to two Chasers, this game will all but lie in the hands of Captain Draco Malfoy. He must catch the Snitch before Narhassa scores seven more, NARHASSA SCORES! , six more goals if Slytherin is to win."  
  
Draco raced about the top of the arena, with Alex in short tow behind them.  
  
"And could it be,?" began Jordan. "Yes, the Snitch!"  
  
Harry's Seeker instincts pointed him in the right direction. By the Narhassa goal post, he saw the glint of gold against the morning sun. He was not the only one, as Draco dove forward, urging his Nimbus 2001 to great speeds.  
  
"And, wait a minute!" exclaimed Lee Jordan. "The Bludgers desist their chase of Waitskin, and speed right for Seeker Malfoy!"  
  
Draco whirled to the left, just in time to avoid both Bludgers. Harry was reminded of second year, when Dobby's bludger was constantly trying to decapitate Harry without fail, only it was now Draco's neck on the line, and he had to worry about both of them. Both Bludgers performed perfect U- Turns, and sped for Malfoy a second time.  
  
Harry's eyes shifted over to see Alex, floating on his broom about thirty feet away from Malfoy, not bothering to do much Seeking as his position seemed to recommend. Instead, he was watching Draco with a focused look and a smirk upon his face.  
  
"What sort of fowl play is this!" shouted Lee Jordan. "Come on ref! The bludgers are going haywire, and I certainly wonder why it's only against Slytherin!"  
  
Madam Hooch did indeed blow the whistle, apparently seeing enough.  
  
Both bludgers immediately returned to normal motion, as Alex came about slyly, and sped down to the ground in order to meet with his team. Harry grit his teeth with anger.  
  
Alex is controlling the Bludgers!  
  
Ron was yelling many clever swear words, (which was totally bewildering, since he was ACTUALLY defending Slytherin) while Sean and Hermione were speaking in low tones. The two Bludgers had been brought down by Madam Hooch, who had her wand forth and was stirring them using magic.  
  
"It appears Madam Hooch will be replacing the Bludgers. This will take a few minutes," said Lee Jordan. "Right now, we have a very unbalanced game with Narhassa leading seventy to zero, but who can blame Slytherin seeing as how the bludgers have yet to even make a pass at a Narhassa player."  
  
Several more voices than just Slytherin House alone would allow were chanting "Cheaters" quite loudly at this point, as even Fred and George Weasley were beginning to incite most of the Gryffindors to take up the chant as well, with a significant effect.  
  
"Harry," said Ron suddenly and strangely, desisting his string of profanity. "Look, Malfoy"  
  
Harry turned his focus from Alex to Malfoy, who had just taken off into the air. He was looking directly at Harry and waving his hands in his direction.  
  
"Harry," said Jessica softly. "Is he waving at you?"  
  
Upon seeing Harry watching him, Malfoy began to point toward the Narhassa house seats demandingly.  
  
"Apparently so," said Harry in a strange awe. Sean and Hermione also joined Harry by his side, watching Malfoy's strange antics.  
  
"What do you suppose he is on about?" asked Hermione, putting the palm of her hand out in front of her to shield her eyes as she looked to where Malfoy was pointing.  
  
Harry turned toward the ranks of Narhassa a few hundred feet across the field. Also putting his palm up to keep the sun out of his face, he tried to make out what Malfoy was pointing out.  
  
"Seamus," said Ron turning around quickly and jogging up the stadium isle to where the Irish boy and his friend Dean were setting. Without asking, he snatched Seamus' binoculars from him. "Need to borrow these.."  
  
Seamus glared at him for a moment, but if Ron showed any indication of caring, it was well hidden under his mask of carelessness.  
  
Ron slapped the binoculars to his face, and began to comb in the direction that Malfoy was still pointing.  
  
"Harry!" said Ron emphatically. "Redetyor is over there! Third row!" Ron removed the binoculars and handed them over to Harry.  
  
Harry, wasting no time, pushed them to his eyes. Indeed, Seth Redeytor was within the ranks of Narhassa, extending his hand to a second year girl. She took his hand, no, it wasn't his hand. There was a ball within his hand and she was touching it. After five seconds, Redeytor pulled the ball away, and moved onto the next student.  
  
Without a word, Harry slapped the binoculars into Sean's hands and looked at Ron, with an expression of determined angst.  
  
"Redeytor is handing everyone an object for them to hold for a few seconds at a time," he relayed to Ron, Hermione, Jessica and Sean. Sean leveled the binoculars to his eyes and looked as well.  
  
"Blimey!" exclaimed Hermione brashly. "Do you think that's what I think it is?"  
  
Ron's eyes also widened. "Nuh-uh!"  
  
"I'd bet our House Cup," said Harry darkly. "That's the Sorolith!"  
  
Without wasting any more time, Harry held out his hand as he had done nearly a year ago to the day. He thought only of his Firebolt, tucked safely inside of his dorm.  
  
"Accio Firebolt!" called out Harry loudly.  
  
"What are you doing, Harry?" asked Jessica, in a panic.  
  
Harry turned to her. "He's trying to steal the souls of the people in House Narhassa!"  
  
Jessica's eyes widened with terror. "How?"  
  
"The Sorolith absorbs a small bit of the soul of anyone who touches it," explained Ron energetically. "Once Redetyor has that small piece of their soul, he can make them give up the rest of them, somehow! That is how Narhassa came to be!"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Each of the Order of Narhassa lost their soul. We don't know how, but the Sorolith had something to do with it."  
  
"Get to him quick, Harry!" exclaimed Ron, slapping Harry's back. "The rest of us will run around and give you a hand as soon as we can!"  
  
"Wait!" exclaimed Jessica. "I'm going with you, Harry!"  
  
No sooner had she spoken than Harry's Firebolt came shooting across the top of the Quiddich field and came to a rest within the raven-haired boy's hand.  
  
"Come on then!" exclaimed Harry, having no time to fight Jessica on the issue. He hopped upon his broom at the same time as she did, while Ron, Hermione and Sean began to race around the stands, taking the slow route.  
  
Jessica grabbed his waist as Harry shot his broom forward, drawing stunned and amused looks from nearly everyone in the arena.  
  
"Well, look at that!" blared Lee Jordan over the crowd. "Gryffindor Seeker Harry Potter is speeding toward Captain Draco Malfoy on his own Firebolt! Perhaps Captain Malfoy fancies a private lesson before the game resumes. With Malfoy's record, it couldn't hurt!"  
  
A smirk of humor crossed Malfoy's sly, cold face as Harry approached.  
  
"We make a good team!" shouted Malfoy over the laughing crowd. "I set them up, and you make a blatant fool out of yourself."  
  
"Just keep a look out," hissed Harry as he passed. "This could get weird."  
  
"Of course, Scar head. I've got your back," said Malfoy with a perhaps sarcastic tone. Harry was not sure.  
  
Many Narhassa students rose with confusion and scattered to the isles, as if afraid Harry was going to hit them. As the heads of countless students moved from the seats to the isles, Seth Redetyor became very visible through the thin heads now remaining in the stands. A young second year boy was by his side, touching the stone he held calmly in his hands.  
  
"What are we going to do, Harry?" asked Jessica, a bit nervously in his ear.  
  
Harry felt her tighten her grip on his waist.  
  
"I haven't thought that far ahead!" returned Harry.  
  
As if only now becoming aware of Harry's not-so subtle charge across the field, he rolled his dim gray eyes to him, and curled his upper lip in amusement.  
  
Harry brought about his broom to a whooshing stop, hovering over the same row as the Seth Redeytor. All the students, including the young lad holding Redeytor's stone, scrambled out of the way as Harry hopped off his broom. His feet hit the ground no more than ten feet from Seth, with no one left between them.  
  
"What is the cause of this scene, Potter?" asked Seth in an alarmed voice. "Can you not see I am making merry with my fellow Muggles?"  
  
Where Seth's voice seemed alarmed and panicky, his expression was completely cold and calculating. It was clear to Harry that he was feigning his shock, as if he had foreseen every second of this Quiddich game playing out the way it had.  
  
"Give the Sorolith here, Redeytor!" demanded Harry, drawing his wand.  
  
"God bless you?" asked Seth in an over exaggerated, finicky voice. His eyes gleamed maliciously. "A what?"  
  
Harry aimed his wand straight at Seth, while Jessica looked at Harry nervously. "We are beyond playing dumb, Destroyer."  
  
Seth smirked and took a few steps toward Harry, closing within five feet of him. "Oh, so you've figured out the acronym as well? Yes, I used to have fun with that, scaring those who picked on me in Elementary school." He folded his hands behind his back slyly and leaned forward, hissing quietly to Harry. "And the seas boiled and the sky fell, all the Earth shook in fear. The Destroyer hath cometh."  
  
Those watching the exchange, all Narhassa Muggles, did not seem to react, though Harry doubt they could here him.  
  
"Freaky, is it not?" added Seth, leaned back, as Harry gripped his wand tightly. He quickly glanced to his side, a knowing, mirthless sneer crossing his face. Harry also looked, and saw that nearly all the Professors were now responding to this strange action, and were only a few seconds away from arriving on the scene from their private stands.  
  
"So, you want this?" asked Seth, holding the small ball in front of him, as if begging Harry to take it. "Take it, it does not matter."  
  
Jessica shook by Harry's side, as he held his wand forward. It was a trick, was Harry's first thought. It has to be.  
  
"Jessica," says Harry. "Take it from him," he looked up to Redetyor. "You dare try anything to her, I will end your life."  
  
Seth smirked and with a flick of his wrist, tossed the Sorolith over to Jessica, who caught it. Again, Seth leaned in, his voice no louder than harsh whispers.  
  
"It is the only way to save your friends and yourself, Potter," baited the sixteen-year-old boy, his voice rolling off his tongue with the sound of dry leaves blowing across a barren street. "Do you have what it takes to take my life, Potter? All it would take is the words Avada Kedavra, your soul is strong enough to make it work even without Dark Arts training. You have a unique understanding of the Killing Curse... don't you?"  
  
Harry's hand shook with both trepidation and rage.  
  
"Come on," said Seth coaxingly. "Give the Dark Arts a whirl, you never know, you might like them. What an amazingly powerful Dark Wizard you would be,The Boy Who Lived, heir to Salazar Slytherin and slayer of Lord Voldemort, the most powerful Dark Wizard to date."  
  
"So, you are Voldemort," replied Harry, in the same, hissing tone. It was now clear to him that he was speaking in Parceltongue, the language of snakes.  
  
"Our fates and our souls are linked by the glory of Narhassa. Slay one of us, and you slay the other." replied Redeytor.  
  
Harry's wand continued to shake, as he processed his words.  
  
"It is unavoidable, Potter. This is your one chance, control your anger and your hatred, channel it through your wand with your amazingly formidable soul, take my life. With the words Avada Kedavra, you will have protected your friends and will rise to become the most powerful and revered Dark Wizard the Earth has ever known."  
  
Harry held his wand forward, not even consciously sure what is intension was. Yet, he felt strangely lured by the words, as he felt all of his frustration building up into his wand. The idea of a dark wizard was disgusting to him, but yet, he could not help but feel a slight rush of power. He felt as though he were holding a loaded gun to Seth, and he was the one with his finger upon the trigger.  
  
Harry underwent a strange moment that he had experienced once before, once he was certain his life was about to end by Voldemort's wand.  
  
He relived his entire childhood in a second. In a second, he felt Dudley punching him and hurting him. His head ached, not from his scar, but from a push Uncle Vernon had given him into the cupboard under the stairs, once, when he was seven. He had slammed his head into the floor and began to cry. He sobbed and whimpered, but no one heard him. It was at that moment that Harry knew he was not a normal child. All of his natural instincts had rebelled against his existence. Someone was to come and console him; someone had to care, Harry had thought.  
  
Yet no one did.  
  
And once again, Harry found himself down beneath the dungeon in Hogwarts, alone and facing Professor Quirrell. He felt the heat of the flames scorching the back of his neck, from a wall of fire. Before him, Professor Quirrell had untied his turban, revealing for the first time, the face of Lord Voldemort. His eyes shot pleadingly about for a solution, for Hermione, for Ron, for someone to help him.  
  
Yet no one did.  
  
He saw the figure of Seth Redeytor, no, it was Tom Riddle, for by his side, a large serpent glared at Harry with murderous intent. Now, Harry was in the Chamber of Secrets. He could feel the cold iron sword within his hands; the sword of Godric Gryffindor. There was a sharp pain in his leg, and he could here Tom Riddle laughing over the hissing serpent. He saw Ginny Weasley, lying helpless. He had pleaded for help and for support,for someone to come and win the day for him.  
  
Yet no one did.  
  
And finally, Harry saw the eyes of Cedric Diggory staring at him helplessly, filled with cold death. The boy was gone and would not be able to help him. He stared at the cauldron, as Wormtail threw his hand into the seething liquid, from which a creature had sunk to the bottom of the cauldron.  
  
Please, let it drown, Harry had thought at the time. He thought it now, more than ever. Let every day from that day to this be some kind of dream. Let him and Cedric proudly hoist the House Cup above their heads, and split the thousand galleons, fifty/fifty; a victory for Hogwarts.  
  
But, now he was facing a newly arisen Voldemort, hiding behind the tombstone again, like he had done years ago. He looked every which way for help; he begged for it, he nearly cried for it. Someone had to hear him; someone had to care.  
  
Yet no one did.  
  
And now, he glared upon Seth Redeytor as the compellation of all his misery. Lord Voldemort, helpless before him, and all it would take is two words. Harry could feel all of his hatred manifesting within his chest and he could feel his wand searing hot with energy. His wand was drawing upon his soul in preparation for the spell Harry was about to cast. One last look showed that Harry was indeed alone. Jessica had fallen back, both in trepidation and astonishment. It was only him and Seth, with no one to help him and no one who cared.  
  
As with all the situations Harry saw rolling through his head, now, only one person would help him: himself.  
  
Seth's face broke into an outright mirthless grin, as Harry's shaking wand locked with steady firmness.  
  
It ends now, hissed Harry, in his own mind.  
  
And without further adieu, Harry cried out as loud as he could.  
  
"Avada Kedavra!"  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Well, this is an interesting development. Is Harry about to give himself to the Dark Arts by sending Redeytor back to where he came from, and in the process, earn himself life in Azkaban, or was Redeytor baiting him the whole time with a nasty trick up his sleeve.  
  
Next Chapter: The aftermath of the Quiddich Game, and the revelation of a few more secrets. Perhaps a character's struggles and hardships you thought I had all but dismissed might resurface. Will the Ron and Sean conflict continue to escalate? Stay Tuned. 


	14. The Real Meaning of Leverage

A/N: Would just like to thank all those who reviewed this story on Schnoogle, at FictionAlley.com! You guys inspired me to keep writing and posting my work. I hope you all like this story here as well! Please read and review, it's how I get my kicks after work. If you hate the story or are bored with it, please tell me why. While I love good reviews, I only learn from bad ones.  
  
Chapter 14: The Real Meaning of Leverage  
  
Ron had seen Harry's vacant expression when he had arrived on the scene within the Narhassa stands. Ron knew something terrible had happened, but he could not speculate what. Had it not been for Professor Lupin and Professor McGonagall being present, Ron would have drawn his wand to stand by Harry's side.  
  
Seth was hissing something unintelligibly to Harry, who did not respond verbally. Instead, Harry weakly nodded, even though his wand remained fixed upon Seth's chest. Ron knew at once that Seth was speaking in Parseltongue, for he had heard Harry speaking the language before.  
  
Hermione and Sean seemed equally confused as they watched Harry, with their mouth's agape. While they made no move to break through the wall of Narhassa students, they watched from an elevated row in the stands.  
  
The scene that unfolded was of outright confusion. Seth Redetyor was holding his hands up defensively while Harry seemed all but dead, as he stood with his wand pointed at Redetyor, with wisps of smoke still trickling from the end.  
  
"And I borrowed Neville Longbottom's Remembrall to conduct an experiment involving memory and forgetfulness among the students of Narhassa," Seth was explaining. "Harry came over to fetch it back for Longbottom, I would assume, though I do question his approach of interrupting the game and scaring everyone to death."  
  
Harry's expression remained completely emotionless, but his wand slowly lowered. Jessica had handed Lupin the ball they had taken from Seth, only for the sandy-haired man to confirm that it was, indeed, a Remembrall and nothing more. Professor McGonagall shook her head and thinned her lips considerably.  
  
"Potter, despite the game being put on temporary pause, flying your broom across the field was most disruptive and broke many rules. Fifteen points will be taken from Gryffindor for this action."  
  
Professor McGonagall clucked her tongue with frustration, while Lupin continued to eye Redetyor extremely wearily. Feeling overwhelmed by a sense of loyalty, Ron slowly approached Harry, who still clutched his wand. It was no longer pointed at Seth, but at the ground now.  
  
"Well," said Professor McGonagall, turning about to take her leave. "Nothing more to say."  
  
Professor Lupin narrowed his eyes at Seth for a long while before finally affirming. "All those of my house, take their seats again. Harry, why don't you return back with your friends to the Gryffindor section?"  
  
Harry did not respond, nor did Ron see any indication of his friend hearing Lupin. Unable to bare it, Ron began to weed his way through the students of Narhassa.  
  
"Harry?" asked Ron, pushing through the last of the crowd to stand by his friend's side.  
  
Seth moved forward, his robes blowing ominously in the turbulent wind. His dull gray eyes passed over Ron with a glint of knowing as he strolled past him. Barely able to contain his own anger, Ron stared after him with unbridled fury. The red haired boy lost interest as Seth faded into the crowd and looked back to his best friend in the world.  
  
Harry looked positively and completely defeated. His emerald green eyes had lost their usual glitter, for behind them, Ron only saw cold fury. In place of wisdom and temperance, Ron only saw blankness.  
  
"Well, that was a strange moment," blared Lee Jordan's voice. "Gryffindor Captain Harry Potter decided to take matters into his own hands and give a little scare to the cheating House Narhassa, costing Gryffindor fifteen points! All I can say is props to him, for I think we can all agree that those fifteen points were well spent!"  
  
Ron smiled slightly at the comment, but his grin lost its luster upon seeing Harry not blink his eyes in reaction. Daring to be bold, Ron grabbed Harry's arm and shook him.  
  
"Harry, wake up. Are you alright?" he asked.  
  
Harry blinked his lids slowly, as if recovering from a bout of hypnosis. He turned slowly about to face Ron. As he did, his hands began to shake at his sides and his eyes visibly began to tear up.  
  
"What, have, I , done," whimpered Harry pathetically, his wand slipping out from his fingertips.  
  
In all the years Ron had known Harry, never once had he seen him show such emotions. He had never demonstrated fear, sorrow or such empty doubt. It unnerved Ron at once, forcing him to take a step back.  
  
"You have done nothing," said Ron, in a strangely alienated voice.  
  
"I, did something, awful," whispered Harry, in a voice so meek that Ron barely made it out, despite standing right next to him.  
  
Ron shook his head and picked up Harry's wand from the stony row. "Come on," he said with a calmly voice, finally recovering from the shock of seeing Harry looking so utterly vanquished. His friend put up no fight as Ron escorted him down the row. Hermione and Sean met them on their way around the arena, and quietly returned to their seats.  
  
The Quiddich match finally ended in a great upset to Slytherin, who lost three hundred and ten to zero, as not a single Slytherin was able to cross half-court with the quaffle without being bombarded by bludgers. Ron could not possibly hate a person any more than Draco Malfoy, however, he felt pity for him, even if only for a second or two, as he was assaulted by two bludgers every time he saw the snitch. Alex had finally caught the snitch and ended the game after twenty minutes of play.  
  
Yet, while Ron loved Quiddich as much as life, he missed well more than half the match. He was unable to concentrate, for he was too busy watching Harry with brotherly concern. In the entire twenty-minute match, he could count the times Harry blinked his eyes upon one hand. Something had his best friend totally defeated, and he was not talking about it.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
The next five days were, bar none, the longest of Ron's life. To him, it seemed as though the world had suddenly become so small that everywhere he looked, he had no companions. Harry's body continued to function, but the Harry Ron knew was nowhere to be found within his listless eyes.  
  
The tensions between House Narhassa and the rest of the school had culminated to a point where Ron witnessed four Narhassa third years were picking on three Hufflepuff students. To his amazement, third year Slytherin students came to the defense of their fellow wizards, and forcefully drove away the Muggles. In a way, it seemed like an alternate reality for him. Slytherins were no longer the enemy; Narhassa was.  
  
And Sean and Hermione continued to see each other, which struck him as sharply as a dagger within his spine. Every word spoken and every smile exchanged felt like someone twisting that dagger mercilessly in his back. Sean continued to ignore Ron, which was probably for the best. He could tell that Hermione never gave up hope that he would come around and make friendly with Sean, but from where he stood, Ron wanted nothing to do with the shorter boy.  
  
It was on such a down note that Ron entered the Gryffindor common room, five days after the Quiddich game. Not a single word had been spoken about Voldemort or Seth Redetyor for that entire time. It seemed so distant, now that Harry had all but given up.  
  
And it was Harry that met Ron's eyes in the crowded common room. He sat alone by the fire, sunk deep within a maroon armchair, staring intently at the golden-red flames. If Ron had never seen Harry before, he would have withdrawn a holy symbol in hopes of staving off the vampire by the fire.  
  
Harry's face seemed completely pale against the fire, with his raven black hair as disheveled as ever. It was also clear that Harry had not shaved in nearly a week, for the stubble around his chin and upper lip was beginning to give him a scruffy look. The bags under his eyes glared sharply with his milky white skin and his eyes seemed to shine with a dead amber glow as the flames of the fireplace reflected within them.  
  
This was all Ron could bare, as he marched over to Harry's side. He barely kept his emotions in check.  
  
"Talk to me, Harry," was all he could manage, his voice beginning to choke up with emotion as the stress of the week broke through his failing countenance.  
  
There was nothing but sharp tension as Harry continued to stare into the flickering flames. Harry seemed to be completely ignoring him, like he wasn't even there. Ron swallowed the lump emerging in his throat, and turned to go.  
  
"I like fire," said Harry, his voice sounding low and dreary, like a man upon his deathbed. He continued to stare intently into the fireplace. "Do you know why?"  
  
"Why?" asked Ron, stopping in his tracks. He decided to play along, for those were the most words Harry had spoken to him in five days.  
  
"Because of its simple existence," continued Harry, his mouth moving independently of the rest of his body, maintaining perfect stillness. "It is born a spark and feeds slowly in its childhood, gently lapping up nutrition provided by the mother who brought it to life."  
  
Ron swallowed a nervous lump within his throat, but remained silent.  
  
"When it reaches puberty, it blossoms, consuming all available nutrition as it roars into its adulthood, eating anything that is thrown its way; completely impartial to its sustenance as long as it is edible."  
  
"Where are you going with this, Harry?" asked Ron timidly. "If you are trying to scare me, you are doing a good job."  
  
"And when it runs out of food, it spirals down into its old age, until the last venerable dying ashes glow bright red with a final fury, and then disappear into the darkness of death."  
  
"Please, Harry," said Ron, his voice quavering. "Tell me what's wrong."  
  
Harry's face finally formed into a mirthless grin without any trace of goodness. "We are like fire, Ron. Humans, good or evil, we come into the world and at first, we are content to just get by. Then, when we see how big the pie really is, we all grab for as much of it as we can, until there is nothing left but the bleakness of death."  
  
There was a lengthy pause as Ron dropped his eyes and looked at Harry. Never in his entire life had he imagined Harry could look like this, or talk like this. It broke Ron's will and his confidence, for never had he felt so fragile in his entire life.  
  
"If you were ever my friend, Harry," began Ron, his voice cracking with emotion, "you will tell me what happened to make you like this, five days ago." His blue eyes began to water up uncontrollably. "Please," he added.  
  
At last, Ron seemed to finally make a dent. Harry blinked his dull eyes and bit his lips. He took his eyes off the fire and glared at his feet, a figment of the old Harry seemed to break through as his expression faltered.  
  
"Ok," mouthed Harry, his lips speaking for the voice that would not emerge.  
  
Ron extended his hand to Harry, and Harry gripped it weakly. Ron pulled him off the chair, and led him up to their empty dorm room. Seamus, Dean and Neville were all still in the Common Room, while Sean's location was currently unknown. Ron was quick to guess that him and Hermione were in the Astronomy Tower, or worse yet, in her room.  
  
Harry sat down upon the edge of his four-posture bed, and Ron joined him, feeling extremely awkward. Something told Ron that he should remain close to his best friend, for he was, no doubt, about to lay down something extremely important upon him. Yet, at the same time, he had never been the one to console Harry for any length of time. It was always the Boy Who Lived who seemed to be the bastion of strength; it was Harry who comforted Hermione and him during times of trouble. And now, it was time for Ron to repay the favor, and he was not sure how to do it.  
  
"I did something awful, Ron," said Harry, looking down at his feet, with his hands folded upon his lap.  
  
Ron smiled slightly, in an attempt to break the tension. "I did not see you dancing Karaoke style with Professor Snape."  
  
If Harry had heard the joke, he did not react to it. "I felt what it was like to be Voldemort, Ron."  
  
The combined use of the word Voldemort and Harry's dark expression was enough to banish the smile from Ron's face.  
  
"I do not know if it was my scar that linked me to him, but, during the confrontation with Redetyor, I shared a mind with Voldemort. I saw all my hardships appear before me, and I watched helplessly as they played themselves out in front of my very eyes."  
  
Ron remained deathly silent.  
  
"I could feel my own anger and taste my own hate; it was tangible. It was a force that I could control and project onto another. And, so, I tried, Ron."  
  
Harry's voice failed him and Ron heard him sniffle, making Ron pale with fright and tension.  
  
"I tried to kill Redetyor in cold blood, using the Killing Curse. I was completely consumed by darkness and, for that time, I became a Dark Wizard."  
  
A tear dropped from Harry's eyes onto the front of his black robes, fading into the fabric. Ron could not even think of a reply as he listened to Harry.  
  
"Without any practice in the Dark Arts, I was unable to perform the curse, at least, that was what Redetyor told me after I tried. He then told me that I was to stay out of his business, or he would decree that I attempted to use the Killing Curse on him, and fifty Narhassa wizards would verify it. I would be expelled at best, or given life in Azkaban at worst!"  
  
Harry clenched a fist and dug it painfully into his chin, as his arm shook with emotion and anger. He sucked air in through his pressed lips, as a sob broke through.  
  
"How could I have been so stupid! I played right into his fucking hands!" he exclaimed in a failed voice, his entire body quivering with rage. And, with that, Harry buried his face into his hands, and began to sob in complete shame.  
  
To Ron's own disbelief, this did not make him feel any less awkward. In fact, he felt a great weight float off his shoulders. Now that he knew what was bothering Harry, he would be able to help him now.  
  
"I'm sure Redetyor wants us all dead, Harry," said Ron, his voice soft. "It's not your fault."  
  
Harry continued sobbing into his palms.  
  
"What am I going to do now?" said Harry's muffled voice from his hands in between sniffles. "Redetyor controls my entire life, I cannot act against him, at his whim, I'll be expelled or worse!"  
  
Ron, doing the only thing he could think of, put his arm around his best friend and shook him in a brotherly manner.  
  
"We are going to do it the way we've done it for four years, Harry," said Ron, his voice uplifting even his own spirits. "We are going to act against him without him knowing. He's only human; you proven this."  
  
Harry looked up from his hands, his pale face now being stained crimson red from his emotional breakdown. He wiped his eyes slowly, and Ron could not help but notice the glimmer was back within the emerald green hue of them.  
  
"How?" asked Harry, the air still choking in his throat as he tried to speak.  
  
Ron smirked and removed his arm from Harry, and stood up from his bed. With a bounce to his step, he skipped over to Harry's trunk and began to fling some of Harry's personal items aside, in search of something. After nearly hitting Harry with a pair of boxers, Ron finally withdrew what he was looking for, the shimmering Invisibility Cloak. It seemed to drape off of his fingers liquidly as he hoisted it out of the trunk.  
  
"We are leaving the Common Room," decreed Ron proudly, tossing the cloak to Harry.  
  
Harry's saddened expression perked slightly as he, again, wiped away at the rings of moisture around his eyes.  
  
"And going where?" asked Harry, taking a calming deep breath.  
  
Ron smiled at Harry and punched him playfully in the shoulder. "To get you some food, man. You look like a cross between a vampire and Snape's left arse cheek."  
  
Harry arched one of his brows.  
  
"And, of course, talk to a certain house elf friend of ours who just MAY be decent for gathering us information with his free access of all of Hogwarts."  
  
"What sort of information did you have in mind?" asked Harry meekly.  
  
"A date," explained Ron.  
  
"Ron," began Harry, a desperate chuckle breaking through his still flushed face. "If this is about you and Hermione,"  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "No, not that kind of date you mangy pillock, a date, as in a time. What if Dobby is able to get into House Narhassa's Common Room, and becomes privy to a date when they all plan to act."  
  
"You've been thinking about this a lot," said Harry, looking at Ron with infinite respect. "What makes you think they have a date floating around?"  
  
Ron scratched the peach fuzz on the bottom of his chin. "Think about it. Redetyor is collecting Narhassa's souls, meanwhile, he is leaving school to set things up, and attempting to silence those who seem to be onto him, mainly you and Malfoy. He obviously doesn't want to kill either of you, and my guess as to why that is, is simply that if bodies start showing up all around Hogwarts,"  
  
Harry, whose eyes widened, suddenly cut off Ron. "Dumbledore will immediately lock down the school, and send all students home, as he almost did during our second year! And, you've seen how weak Redetyor is with me, he wouldn't last a minute once Voldemort and his Deatheaters got word he is out of the school and out of Dumbledore's care!"  
  
Ron nodded slowly, his tongue smacking his lips. "Exactly. Seth needs time, for something. Now, think on this, Sean's dreams, as we have all been painfully made aware of, depict him inside of a classroom, learning the value of self-sacrifice and preparing him for something."  
  
Harry snapped his fingers, his old vitality seeping back into his bones. "Bang on! But, if Sean does not know this date, what makes you think others will?"  
  
"Remember," said Ron with a slight smirk. "Sean is having a hard time remembering the specifics of his dreams. I have a hunch Redetyor does not trust him and is causing him to forget some of the more concrete details."  
  
"It's a possibility," said Harry with a nod. "We know spells like that are quite easy to perform."  
  
"One thing though that doesn't fit," began Ron. "Sean is the only Muggle wizard who dreams that the person teaching the class is Voldemort, why would Sean see Voldemort, if Redetyor plans to oppose him?"  
  
Harry's eyes became glazed for a moment, as he struggled to recall something. He closed his eyes, as if wracking his brain. "During our showdown, a few days ago, Redetyor said something about him and Voldemort being bound by the powers of Narhassa. If one of them dies, so does the other, or something of that sort. Perhaps Sean saw through Redetyor, and through Redetyor lies Voldemort?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "It's as good of a guess as any, Harry, though we still don't know our arse from our elbows about what Redetyor and Voldemort have to do with each other. Redetyor is the adopted great-grandson of Dumbledore, born sixteen years ago, and Voldemort is over sixty and has been near death most of Redetyor's life."  
  
Harry finally rose to his feet, still holding his Invisibility Cloak. Before throwing it on, however, Harry cracked a smile at Ron.  
  
"We will figure it out."  
  
Ron also smiled, more brightly than he had in a long while. "That's the spirit."  
  
Harry's smiled waned slightly as he locked his hands behind his back "You have no idea how much your friendship means to me, Ron."  
  
Ron blushed slightly and rubbed the back of his own head. "Ok, ok, don't get all mushy on me, will ya? If I had a galleon for every time you've been there for me, I'd buy Malfoy's Manor and condemn it, just to see the look on Draco's face when it is reduced to rubble."  
  
With a snort, Harry held out his hand. "Fine. No more mush, just a shake."  
  
Ron smirked and shook Harry's hand, gripping it tightly. "Agreed."  
  
Without another wood, Harry threw on his invisibility cloak, and Ron wasted no time crawling underneath.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Sean rested his arms behind his back, lying deeply upon the pillows of Hermione's bed. He was dressed in his school robes still, for he had not taken a chance to change after his classes got out.  
  
"Aw, come on," he said with a smile. "Do I really have to leave?"  
  
Hermione grabbed his arms and attempted to pull him off her bed, but the boy went completely limp.  
  
"I have homework to do, Sean!" said Hermione shortly. "Come on, get, up,"  
  
Sean smirked and continued his passive resistance, until Hermione finally gave up.  
  
"You've already finished your homework," said Sean knowingly. "For the next few days."  
  
Hermione sighed and sat down upon the opposite side of her bed, right on top of Sean's legs, causing him to wince and withdraw them.  
  
"I know," she said with a sigh. "I guess, I don't really know what's going on, that's all."  
  
Sean rose from his prone position and crawled behind Hermione. He wrapped his arms softly around her waist.  
  
"What's wrong?" asked Sean, childishly resting his head upon her shoulder. "Did I do something bad? I try to be good, but it is so boring."  
  
Hermione giggled slightly and took hold of his hands. However, her giggle was short-lived.  
  
"You don't have a single bad bone in your body," she said truthfully. "I'm concerned about my two best friends, that's all," said Hermione with a sigh.  
  
Sean squeezed her hands tenderly within his own. "Ron is , how do you guys say it here in England, a speccy, mangy, bloated pillockish prat?"  
  
Hermione laughed and slapped his hand with her own playfully. "Yes, but he is also my best friend. In truth, I am more concerned about Harry, though."  
  
Sean nodded. "I am too, 'Mione. He's been acting really strange lately. I'm also worried about someone else though."  
  
The wavy-haired girl turned her head over her shoulder, to look Sean in the eyes. "Oh, don't worry about me, Sean."  
  
The smaller boy smirked mischievously. "Oh, I'm not worried about you, you are as stout as a horse."  
  
Hermione slapped his hand again, this time a bit less playfully, with a pout on her face.  
  
"And high-spirited too!" added Sean, smiling devilishly.  
  
"Who are you worried about then?" asked Hermione, loosing her serious attitude as quickly as it came.  
  
Sean laughed slightly, lifting his head from Hermione's shoulder. "It'll make you laugh."  
  
"Probably," returned the girl.  
  
"Neville Longbottom," said Sean after a moment.  
  
Hermione raised an awkward brow. "Neville? Why would you be worried about him?"  
  
Sean cocked his head at Hermione strangely. "Oh, nothing, except that everyone dear to him is either dead or in the nuthouse, he has no family and nowhere to go home to."  
  
Hermione stared at Sean with a dumbfounded expression. In truth, she had not given Neville a single bit of thought since the carriage ride to Hogwarts over a month ago. Now, it all came back into her mind, she had even promised to talk to him, but had completely forgotten in the chaos of the Sorting Ceremony and the appearance of Tom Marvolo Riddle's twin, Seth Redetyor.  
  
"They are in a nuthouse?" asked Hermione, her eyes wide.  
  
"Yeah," said Sean. "They are both being kept at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, wherever that is."  
  
"How do you know all this?" asked Hermione.  
  
Sean looked kindly into Hermione's deep, brown eyes. "He talks in his sleep, often, I am awakened at night by the dreams, and cannot get back to bed. I can hear him talking softly when I get close enough to his bed."  
  
"I feel so sorry for him," said Hermione quietly. "I promised I'd talk to him, but that was so long ago."  
  
Sean shrugged his shoulders. "Better late than never, Hermione."  
  
Hermione gave Sean a lopsided grin in consideration. "Haven't you ever felt awkward doing anything? It would be so difficult to approach him."  
  
The red-haired boy looked hard at Hermione, with nothing but compassion. "All the time. Telling you how I felt was the most terrifying experience in the world."  
  
"Really?" asked Hermione, her voice soft and kind. "Am I such an intimidating person?"  
  
Sean smiled and leaned forward, kissing her softly on the lips. After a quick peck, he withdrew. "Truthfully? I think you are one of the scariest people in this school when you want to be."  
  
Hermione smiled and leaned back into him. "Beware," she said with mock chill as she stroked his face caringly. "I just might devour you."  
  
"For some reason, I am curiously aroused by that idea," said Sean, with a bright smile.  
  
Hermione leaned in, kissing him with longing desire as Sean fell back into the pillows of her bed, closing his eyes and loosing himself in passion.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
The students within the Gryffindor Common Room began to disperse as the night carried on. Neville yawned and lifted his arms off of his Defense Against the Dark Arts book entitled "Creative Curses and Cures" and stretched his arms into the air.  
  
"Some of these things Lupin is teaching us are way beyond what most wizards learn in school," commented Seamus offhandedly as he flipped through his own book.  
  
Dean looked at him from across the table. "Well, yeah. Lupin's always done that with us. We were taught how to fight off boggarts when we were thirteen years old, remember?"  
  
Neville craned his neck and sighed. "I'm beat. I think I'm going to retire early."  
  
Both Seamus and Dean nodded in his direction. "Good morrow, then."  
  
"Good morrow," droned Neville as he rose from the table. With heavy legs, he marched up the stairs to the fifth year boy's dorm. He entered the bathroom and brushed his teeth, looking in the mirror. Staring into his own, baggy eyes, Neville was reminded of his present situation. Yet, he could not help but feel slightly relieved. He had three great friends who would be there for him whenever he needed. Seamus had always proven himself a great source of distraction from his regular life, while Dean also took Neville as seriously as the prefect.  
  
Yet, the simple concern that he had no place to go for holiday vacation was more than just a bit disconcerting. He had no idea how much he missed his Gran until he thought of spending Christmas alone in the Gryffindor Common Room. Ron had agreed to go home for the holidays and bring Harry with him this year; he mentioned something about his brothers paying him well to come with them, to test some more products.  
  
He washed his face and murmured "Nox" as he left the bathroom, extinguishing the magical light behind him. Without much adieu, he changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed.  
  
Upon his bed, just as he had left it, was his diary. For the past few weeks, he had been writing down his thoughts in an attempt to help organize them. Deciding to write a bit more, Neville opened up his diary, dipped his quill in the ink by his bed stand. Before writing, he read the last passage in his book.  
  
Do you feel like writing anything tonight?"  
  
Neville put his quill to the paper.  
  
"I don't really have thoughts tonight, just concerns."  
  
Neville waited for a moment. As his writing dried, a message sure enough appeared in bright, bloody-red ink.  
  
"I'm always here for you if you need someone to listen."  
  
The round-faced boy smiled and continued writing.  
  
"Thanks Seth. You are a great friend."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Next Chapter: Ron and Harry talk to Dobby the House Elf, and Halloween at Hogwarts, will it be as a usual Halloween is, or will something actually NOT happen.  
  
Just how deep does this plan of Seth Redetyor's go, and, for the love of all that is holy, what is his plan? Will Sean and Hermione remain hot and heavy, will Ron kill Sean in a jealousy fury, only to be killed by Harry in angst? Nope, but it was fun typing. What is Neville up to? Is Redetyor hopelessly duping him into being used, or is some of his correspondence with Redetyor coming from his own will? Or perhaps Seth just wants to help guide Neville through this difficult time in his life, Stay Tuned. 


	15. House Elves and Halloween

A/N: Would just like to thank all those who reviewed this story on Schnoogle, at FictionAlley.com! You guys inspired me to keep writing and posting my work. I hope you all like this story here as well! Please read and review, it's how I get my kicks after work. If you hate the story or are bored with it, please tell me why. While I love good reviews, I only learn from bad ones.  
  
Chapter 15: House Elves and Halloween  
  
"I promise you!" shrieked the Fat Lady as she swung open. "If I find out who is sneaking out after curfew, I am never going to let them in again!"  
  
Harry and Ron exchanged mischievous grins as they crept out together with practiced coordination beneath the shelter of Harry's Invisibility Cloak. It had been so long since Ron had remembered Harry and him sneaking out after hours. In more than just one way, it felt completely liberating. He had his friend back and, once again, it was time to catch themselves some bad guys.  
  
The trip down to the kitchen was easy through the barren, dim halls. Not a creature seemed to be stirring as the two best friends made their way down a third flight of stairs and before long, found themselves staring at the huge picture of a fruit basket again.  
  
"Shall I do the honors?" asked Ron, beating his eyes kindly.  
  
Harry raised a brow. "Go ahead and tickle the fruit, Ron."  
  
Ron reached out from under the cloak, his hand appearing in the dimly lit hallway for a moment. He stroked the painting of the green pair several times, and finally, it began laughing and squirming within the portrait. A moment later, it opened up with a slight creek, permitting the two boys to enter. Harry removed the Invisibility Cloak and folded it under his arms as Ron took a few steps into the kitchen.  
  
It was as Ron remembered it last year, with dozens of House Elves working up a storm, even this late at night. Desserts were being prepared and chilled for tomorrow as lemonade brew in a cauldron, stirred merrily by a sappy looking elf. A long but low table ran down the middle of the kitchen where dough was being kneaded and spun into circular shapes.  
  
And, almost immediately, came the shout. "Harry Potter and his Wheezy!"  
  
Ron sighed and shook his head as Dobby flipped his spinning dough into the air, and completely neglected it. As he rushed over to greet them, it landed upon the elf that was next to him, covering him from head to toe like a dress.  
  
"Dobby!" he roared angrily, from beneath the dome of enveloping dough. "You is so careless! Him useless!" To their surprise, his voice was not nearly as squeaky or high-pitched as Dobby's, sounding even a bit gruff.  
  
Dobby completely ignored his companion as he rushed over and leapt up nearly to Harry's shoulders, hugging him childishly. The awkward lunge nearly made Harry fall over, but Ron was quick to put a stabilizing hand to his friend's shoulder to keep him from loosing his balance.  
  
If there were an award for most awkwardly dressed being on the face of the planet, Dobby would be a surefire gold metal champion. Of all the times Ron had seen him, this time, he had outdone himself. Today, he was wearing what could only be a black, muggle jumpsuit that ran down to his waistline, coupled with a bright red bathing suit, with a single black and white stripped sock running up to his thigh on his right leg and a sandal upon his left, without any socks. One sleeve of the jumpsuit was missing; in place of it was about fifty golden bracelets that ran up his arm like a piece of armor.  
  
At once, Dobby let Harry go and fell back to the ground. "Oh, Harry Potter is looking so ill! Is Harry Potter ok?"  
  
"I am alright, Dobby," said Harry, in a soft, mellow voice. "I just haven't been sleeping well or eating at all for the past few days."  
  
Dobby, as if someone had just told him an army of dragons was descending down upon Hogwarts, suddenly hopped onto the long table and cupped his hands around his mouth.  
  
"Emergency!"  
  
At once, every house elf, including the one Dobby splattered with doe, dropped what they were doing and began racing to and fro. Ron was shoved aside by an onslaught of two-foot tall elves, who became as fast as speed demons, racing around the kitchen. Four elves shoved Harry off his feet, while three more pushed a chair underneath him, just in time to catch him. Now, sitting down, Harry gawked as six other house elves roughly slammed a small TV dinner table in front of him. By now, Ron could barely even see the individual elves as they became a short blur of motion, slapping down plate after plate of food onto Harry's table.  
  
And suddenly, Ron felt his own feet fly out from under him, and just before he would have slammed headfirst into the ground, he fell into a chair, just like Harry had done. A second table was slammed down in front of him, and cuisine after cuisine was stacked high upon Ron's table like a leaning tower of plates. To his astonishment, a house elf lifted up Ron's robe, leapt up to his chest and crawled out of the top of his robe, with a napkin trailing him and catching in his collar, likely the desired effect. A fork and a knife were roughly jammed in between his fingers.  
  
And, just as suddenly as it all began, the motion in the room ceased as the elves ceased moving. They had surrounded Harry and Ron and were beaming with a subtle pride that only a house elf could find from doing a job well done.  
  
"Still alive over there, Ron?" came Harry's voice from behind Ron's towering plates. His view of his friend had been blocked by the mass of fine china.  
  
"I think so," returned Ron as he stood up to take the plate on top of his stack into his hands. Within his hands was a succulent looking stake, with mashed potatoes and carrots. Despite already eating dinner, he found himself motivated to have a second helping of the wonderfully cooked meat.  
  
Ron cleared off the plates of food, placing them in a pile on the floor beside him to afford a better look of Harry. His friend apparently was as famished as he looked, for in the time it took Ron to finish one plate, Harry's was working on his third.  
  
"So Harry Potter," said Dobby, hopping up onto his small table and leaning back against the mass of plates. "Dobby is so happy to see you! What brings you to Dobby tonight? Is this all Dobby needs to do for you?"  
  
"Thanks, for the food and everything," said Harry, in between mouthfuls of corn beef and cabbage. "But, I was wondering if we could talk privately, Dobby."  
  
"Ooo, Harry Potter wants Dobby to keep his secrets!" squealed Dobby energetically as he danced on the table, nearly kicking Harry's tower of plates over. "Yes yes, Dobby will keep Harry Potter's secrets!"  
  
"Well," began Ron, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and pinching his fingers together. "Not quite, actually, Dobby, we wanted to know if you could find out the secrets of others."  
  
Dobby looked from Ron to Harry, with a sort of confused look. Finally, he looked back to the rest of the house elves. "Ok, the emergency over now! Dobby needs to talk to Harry Potter, back to work now!"  
  
The rest of the house elves complied and went back to tossing their doe in the air. Dobby smiled brightly and leapt off Harry's TV dinner table. The elf energetically snagged Harry's wrist and yanked him out of the chair. "Come on, Harry Potter, don't forget your Wheezy!"  
  
Ron sighed and stood up, following after the pair. "Dobby, my name is Ron Weasley."  
  
"Won Wheezy?" asked Dobby, with wide-eyed amazement.  
  
"R-O-N,W-E-A-S-L-E-Y," he said, sounding out each letter clearly.  
  
"Won Wheezy?" repeated Dobby a second time.  
  
"Close enough," said Ron, in defeat, while Dobby shook energetically.  
  
They found themselves on the other side of the kitchen, where another lone house elf was singing to herself and sweeping the floor, beneath two very large shelves containing slabs of thawing meat. She seemed rather happy, and was dressed in a simple, pink flower dress.  
  
"Winky!" said Dobby waving. "We is having to talk later. Harry Potter wants me to keep his secrets!"  
  
Winky looked from Harry to Ron to Dobby and set her broom against the wall. Without a word, she skipped next to Dobby, pecked him on the cheek, and sauntered away.  
  
While Harry smiled at the sight, Ron frowned deeply. This is just ducky, thought the red-haired boy. Even the house elf is getting more than me,  
  
"Winky seems unusually happy," commented Harry.  
  
Dobby nodded his head stupidly. "Oh yes, Harry Potter. Told you she needed to adapt to Hogwarts life. When her bad former master got The Kiss, Dumbledore became her new master, for keeps. Dumbledore cheered her up and told her his secrets!" Dobby paused for a moment, and then began bouncing once again. "Harry Potter tell Dobby his secrets now and make Dobby cheery!"  
  
"Well," began Harry, digging his toe into the floor of the kitchen. "Not really a secret, per se, just a small request."  
  
Dobby's ears perked to the point where they were almost perpendicular to his wide head. "Oooohh," he blurted reverently. "Ask, Harry Potter, ask!"  
  
"Err," began Harry. "Can you, maybe, find a reason or two to clean House Narhassa, and keep your ears open for a date they might be tossing around."  
  
"Ooh!" said Dobby. "Know a lot about date tossing around in House Narhassa, Dobby does. Dobby has to clean up after their parties, but Dobby, while invisible, went into a bedroom and saw,"  
  
"I think he means date, as in time," corrected Ron, biting his lips savagely to hold back a laugh at Harry's look of violated innocence.  
  
Dobby's ears fell slightly, but nonetheless, he continued bouncing. "Ooh, Dobby understand now. For Harry Potter, Dobby will do this. He will go into the room invisible and keep both ears open for date of time."  
  
Even given the success of this little mission, Ron could not help but feel deeply frustrated. Even the house elf would ignore Ron and not even mention him, or if he did, it would be in reference to Harry "not forgetting his Wheezy". Bugger can't even get my name right, thought Ron, sighing instinctively.  
  
"Thanks, Dobby," said Harry. "I'll be sure to get you a nice sneaker for Christmas if you do!"  
  
Dobby's eyes watered at the prospect and his ears drooped in reverence. "Harry Potter is Dobby's best friend!"  
  
With that, he rushed forward and grabbed Harry's left leg, hugging it affectionately.  
  
"Yes, of course," said Harry, subtly trying to free his leg from Dobby's embrace. "And you are pretty ok as well, Dobby."  
  
Dobby finally released Harry. "Oh, better go back to your rooms now! Curfew get you in trouble!"  
  
Harry nodded. "Will do, Dobby." Harry started for the painting, exiting the kitchen. "Take care of yourself."  
  
"Don't forget your Wheezy!" said Dobby energetically, as he rushed back to the main table and began flipping the dough energetically.  
  
Ron, desiring nothing more than to grab a pot and duel Dobby to the end in a bashing competition, swallowed his frustration and followed after Harry as they both left the kitchen.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Ron had realized the moment he left that kitchen that it was time to play the waiting game. Yet, this was a game that was more of a challenge to him than Quiddich was.  
  
Snow had come early to Hogwarts this year, as the harsh weather remained consistent. In fact, it was no little dust-over, but instead, a full raging blizzard half way through October that buried the school in two feet of snow. As a result, their Care for Magical Creatures class had to be taught indoors, which was a real let down for Hagrid, who constantly fought to bring unimaginably ugly creatures within the school.  
  
Despite the harsh weather, Quiddich continued in full force. After seeing Sean on a broom, Harry was positive that he was a natural. He was placed on the team as a Chaser, in addition to Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, who finally decided that Quiddich, while nowhere as good as soccer, was worth playing. Dean took the role of Keeper that Ron had wanted so bad. Ron had a hunch he could have been a much better Keeper than Dean, however, his own pride prevented him from trying out. He would not be on the same team as Sean, for every moment he saw him, it was difficult for him to breath.  
  
And his feelings for Hermione had only deepened. It was so unexplainable how these emotions had come about. He knew all too well that he had a crush on her last year. He was alerted to his painful fact when she dated Viktor Krum. Yet, it was different now, for reasons he had not understood at first. After thinking his own feelings through, however, Ron had come to the decision that he could never put himself on the same level that Krum was. Krum was rich, older and amazing at Quiddich; the best man had clearly won. With Sean, however, Ron felt completely superior. He was stronger, probably smarter and much taller. Nonetheless, Hermione's decision had been made, and Sean was the one who hugged her, smiled at her, touched her, and kissed her.  
  
The prospect, even after a month, sat like an anvil within his stomach, weighing him down nearly every minute.  
  
Nonetheless, the Quiddich team was getting along fine without him, taking a victory from Ravenclaw, 350-240, one of the longest games Ron and Hermione had ever sat through. Ron loved every minute, sitting next to the girl of his dreams.  
  
And so, Ron was feeling energetic to see Hermione today, Halloween morning, up in the library. Harry and him were maneuvering through the well- decorated passageways of Hogwarts.  
  
Hogwarts had truly outdone itself this year. Each chandelier and torch burned with a cold, black flame as, at every turn, jack-o-lanterns carved with such intricate details adorned the pedestals and leered at them with animated features, as fire burned within their opening and closing mouths.  
  
"This place never ceases to amaze me," said Harry good-naturedly, as a jack-o-lantern cackled sinisterly as he walked by. "I wonder what Hermione said was so important, that we needed to miss Divination to come and meet her for."  
  
Ron shrugged. He was hardly heartbroken at the prospect of missing such a class. "Does it really matter? Don't look a gift house in the mouth."  
  
Harry and Ron climbed up a staircase with filled with illusionary spider webs that, despite their artificiality, made the red haired boy cringe involuntarily. After what seemed like ages, they rounded the final bend and entered the library.  
  
It was as they had remembered it from previous years, with many round wooden tables in a general study area overlooking the grand shelves cluttered with dusty tomes. The smell of the library was always strange to Ron, a mixture of must and the sweet odor of cleanser.  
  
And leaning against one of the shelves, was Draco Malfoy.  
  
"It is about time," snapped Malfoy, with his eyes narrowed. "How much longer were you expecting to take?"  
  
Ron and Harry exchanged confused looks. "What are you doing up here, Malfoy?" demanded Harry.  
  
Malfoy glowered coldly at both of them. "Are you trying to be funny, Potter? I got a message yesterday telling me to meet you up here exactly ten minutes ago."  
  
"You think I'd waste precious parchment and seconds off the life of my owl to send you a personal message?" asked Harry, his voice dripping with disdain.  
  
The pallid boy's retort was cut short by the sight of Hermione, strolling into view from the depths of the library. "Oh there you are," she said, in a rushed voice. "I am also sorry for the short notice, but I need you three to look at something. Oh yeah, and I'm also sorry about pretending to be Harry, Malfoy, but I know you would not have come otherwise."  
  
Malfoy narrowed his eyes coldly, and a chuckle escaped his lips. "Oh right, this is rich." With a proud flick of his robe, he was marching out the door. "You've wasted enough of my time, Mudblood."  
  
However, Malfoy's forward progress was halted violently as Ron grabbed Draco's shoulders firmly, and slammed him against a shelf of books, causing quite a loud rattle. It was blind luck that the librarian was deep in the library, returning books and out of earshot.  
  
"What part of 'She needs you to look at something' do you not understand, Malfoy?" hissed Ron.  
  
Malfoy seemed completely unrattled as he fixed Ron with stormy gray eyes that visually thundered with maliciousness.  
  
"You have three seconds to let go of me, Weasley, and the first two don't count."  
  
Harry remained quite passive, as if not sure what to make of the whole scene, while Hermione sighed and put a hand on Ron's shoulder.  
  
"Let him go," she said softly. "I will make it worth his while to stay."  
  
Malfoy's look of fierce, smug pride practically begged Ron to punch him, however, the tall red-haired boy loosened his grip upon Draco's robes. Shrugging off Ron like a flea, Malfoy took a step toward Hermione.  
  
"And what could you possibly offer me?" snapped Draco. "I'd rather get physical with a porcupine, I'll have you know."  
  
Once again, it took a temperance Ron did not even know he had to restrain himself from lunging at Malfoy.  
  
Hermione looked at Draco with a cool expression. "Information about Seth Redetyor, of course. What I have to show you will be rather educational, if you'd allow me the time."  
  
Draco crossed his arms dourly. "And you are getting what in return, exactly?"  
  
"Harry told me you still know more about House Narhassa, and the Order from eight-hundred years ago," continued Hermione. "After seeing what I've found, you will owe us the rest of your information."  
  
Malfoy clicked his tongue appraisingly. "Oh, so the Mudblood is a business woman under a weak exterior?"  
  
It was only Hermione's pleading look to Harry and Ron that stopped BOTH of them from moving on Malfoy. Even Harry seemed ready to string him to the ceiling with rope.  
  
"Very well," finished Malfoy, striding over to Hermione. "Show me what you will, I will decide if it is worth my information."  
  
"Great," said Hermione. "Come on, I just dug up the tome."  
  
Hermione led the three boys to a nearby table, or at least it must have been one, it was hard to tell with the sheer number of books that covered the top of it. She pulled out a chair and sat down, sorting through the books.  
  
"Hermione, do you ever sleep?" asked Harry, with concern while Draco just shook his head with a combination of bewilderment and obvious repulsion.  
  
Ron, however, smiled and sat next to Hermione.  
  
"Sean was in here helping me last night," she said. "Sorry, Harry, but we borrowed your Invisibility Cloak. I hope you don't mind. You were asleep and he didn't want to wake you up to ask."  
  
She had to bring him up, didn't she? Thought Ron with a sigh as bit his lip.  
  
"It's fine, Hermione," said Harry, waving the comment aside. "What did you find?"  
  
Harry and Ron both sat down across from Hermione, leaving Malfoy standing and looking especially bored.  
  
Hermione looked to Malfoy, "First, as a good faith token, tell us more about Narhassa."  
  
Ron and Harry both turned to face Malfoy while he glared coldly at Hermione.  
  
"I don't have any good faith to give," snapped Draco. "Get on with this."  
  
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You really are such a twerp."  
  
"Go swim in a crocodile pool," came the reply.  
  
Ron, for the fourth time today, was so close to pounding Malfoy senseless that it hurt to restrain himself.  
  
"Very well," says Hermione. She looked to Harry and Ron. "Remember when I told you that the Sorolith had two functions?" She opened a book in front of her entitled Antiquities of Old.  
  
"Yeah," said Ron offhandedly. "To steal people's souls, either a little at a time or all at once, and , uh,"  
  
"Make a simulacrum," explained Hermione. She then looked to Draco. "I trust you know what a simulacrum is."  
  
Draco looked a bit miffed. "Pretend I don't, and explain."  
  
"A simulacrum is a magical duplication of oneself that magically bonds with your body. Any damage ones body takes is delivered instead to the simulacrum." Hermione looked at Draco. "It is essentially a durable whipping boy that looks identical to the creator."  
  
"You said it wasn't that interesting before," Harry reminded her.  
  
"Yes, quite right," continued Hermione. "Until I read the passage in this book. Listen: A simulacrum can be cloned directly from the adult specimen. Such a spell is also called the Doppelganger Charm. With the subtle use of dark arts, however, one can bestow simulacrum properties upon a fetus not developed enough to resist the magical effects. The said fetus will feel all pain in place of his master, as well as some more interesting side effects, including empathic bonds and telepathic bonds. Due to the extreme nature of the simulacrum properties, there is an additional side effect. Should the creator loose his body, energy will be subtly drained from the simulacrum in order to keep the creator alive."  
  
Hermione paused and looked up to Draco's hard face. "Do you understand?"  
  
"I understand," muttered Malfoy dryly, shaking his head with anger. "Well, as informative as this has been, I think I'm going to save the rest of my bloody morning and have some breakfast."  
  
Even Ron too was a bit lost. He did not understand exactly what Hermione was getting at.  
  
"For one time in your miserable life, Malfoy, try thinking for a change," snapped Harry as Malfoy rose. "Doesn't Seth Redetyor look a whole lot like Voldemort when he was sixteen?"  
  
Malfoy paused for a moment, his eyes not leaving the table in front of him. "Yes," said Malfoy coolly, his voice showing a bit less scorn. "So, let me get this straight, you are proposing that Voldemort, sixteen years ago, made a simulacrum of himself out of some baby?"  
  
"Not just some baby," continued Hermione. "A baby he knew would be kept safe. Voldemort took every precaution to insure that he would have life after death."  
  
Ron's mind began churning over quickly. "Albus Dumbledore's great grandson!"  
  
Harry shook his head. "But, he was adopted," said Harry. "How would Voldemort know that the child he turned into his simulacrum fall into the hands of Dumbledore's family?"  
  
"I have a hypothesis," said Hermione calmly.  
  
"Oh goodie," murmured Draco, rolling his eyes as he put his elbow onto the table and rested his forehead into the palm of his hand.  
  
"Do tell," said Ron, looking to Hermione, his eyes widened with curiosity.  
  
Hermione stared at Ron as if she had never seen him before. Ron blinked in curiosity, withdrawing his head from his hands in a combination of surprise and confusion. Her eyes were glazed over with what could only be enlightenment. There was a strange sensation within Ron's hand and feet, prickling at him subtly.  
  
"Hermione?" asked Ron, a slight quiver in his voice. "Are,. Are you ok?"  
  
Hermione blinked her eyes and shook her head. "Yeah, fine, sorry. I didn't sleep last night. Where was I?"  
  
"Your hypothesis," said Harry while Draco slapped his hand to his knee with his free hand with impatience.  
  
"Do I have time to get breakfast before you spill it?" he muttered indignantly.  
  
"Sorry," repeated Hermione. "Dumbledore has never mentioned anything about extended family. Not a word in five years. Why?" she asked rhetorically. "Because he is ashamed of them maybe. What if they became Dark Wizards?"  
  
"Oh," said Malfoy, his eyes brightening with mischief. "Is that what they are? Gee, you've just got it all figured out! And my father is Linda the Good Witch of the North."  
  
"Can I finish?" snapped Hermione.  
  
Draco rolled his eyes again. "No, why don't you just waste more of my time instead." he snapped back.  
  
"Oh yeah, because we all know you have such important matters to attend to," retorted Ron crisply. "Evil to brew, people to insult, Quiddich to stink at, all in a hard days work, huh?"  
  
Draco glared at Ron. "Oh, buy yourself a clue, oh wait, you can't afford one of those."  
  
"As mature as this is," butt in Harry as Ron's ears flamed up with red anger, "Hermione, please finish."  
  
Hermione, looking positively ruffled, continued nonetheless. "If the descendents of Dumbledore became Dark Wizards, they would have much to gain by adopting Voldemort's simulacrum and raising it as their own."  
  
"Hermione," said Harry, his voice sincere. "It's not as far fetched as you think, Malfoy, what exactly do you want to know about Redetyor, anyway? What are your goals?"  
  
Malfoy looked to Harry with amusement. "I told you, Potter. They don't concern you."  
  
"I bet he's Voldemort's eyes and ears in Hogwarts," muttered Ron. "Bet after this he's going to rush to the Owlery and tell his dear old dad everything."  
  
Draco looked over to Ron, with a mirthless smirk. "Yep, that's my evil plan. Did you grind both your brain cells together for that one?"  
  
"Look," snapped Harry, trying to keep some semblance of order around the table. "Can we -"  
  
"Fine," said Draco, calmly lifting his head off his palm and raising his hands in defense. "What you've told me is worth a few more bed time stories."  
  
Malfoy looked to the faces of each of the Gryffindors, to make sure he had their attention.  
  
"Now then," he said. "What I told Harry so far is that upon Ben Nevis, all of the Wizards of Narhassa lost their souls. Now, what I didn't tell you was that Salazar Slytherin himself was the one who awoke Narhassa that night. Narhassa was what took the souls of those who had stored fragments of their souls in the Sorolith."  
  
"So Narhassa is a man?" asked Harry thoughtfully.  
  
Draco shook his head. "Originally, it is believed that Narhassa was an angel or some other goodly otherworldly being who was banished from to the mortal world for an unspeakably evil act. On the mortal world, such beings take the form of intangible force. Yet, by making seedy deals with mortals in exchange for soul power, Narhassa was capable of taking solid form for days at a time, or longer, so long as it killed and drained the life force of many victims."  
  
"So," said Hermione. "It is a sentient being, but no person."  
  
Draco looked to Hermione, and nodded. "More or less. Narhassa plays to the strength of the master, Granger. When Slytherin took Narhassa, it took the form of a sword, a weapon of golden fire, according to the stories I've heard."  
  
Ron's eyes twinkled a bit as he listened to Draco's story. There was something about knights and swords that Ron always loved. It was one of his inner fantasies to fight Draco Malfoy in a duel to the death with a sword. While Ron had never learned how to fight with one, he felt his natural height, reach and fast reflexes would have made him a great fencer.  
  
Harry scratched his head thoughtfully. "So, this is where the Sorolith comes into play."  
  
Draco nodded shortly. "The Sorolith gave Narhassa a taste of the soul energy, but it was not happy with just a sample," continued Draco, his voice taking on a darker quality, "it wanted the whole thing. Slytherin, while power hungry, was no murderer and he tried to fight Narhassa. But, in the end, Narhassa won. Salazar Slytherin became a slave to Narhassa and all semblance of the noble man was gone."  
  
"Slytherin was noble?" asked Hermione. "From the stories I heard concerning the Chamber of Secrets, he was never a noble man. He wanted to kill Mudbloods and Muggles!"  
  
Draco stood up slyly and folded his hands behind his back. "Muggles like your parents, Granger, pollute the world with every commute to their jobs. Factories, airplanes and automobiles destroy this planet a little bit each day; far worse than any Dark Arts can."  
  
Ron shuttered involuntarily as Malfoy's words crept down his spin like the hairy, sticky legs of a spider.  
  
"Slytherin was not a murderer, he was a perfectionist. Think of how our world would be if Narhassa had not corrupted Slytherin, and he achieved his goal of killing all the Muggles in the world, no pollution, no hiding, and all our lives would be so much better."  
  
Hermione looked long and hard at Draco. "Would you kill me to bring about this little fantasy of yours?"  
  
There was a tense moment as Harry and Ron looked between Draco and Hermione. Draco narrowed his eyes coldly at Hermione, his own expression a mask of angst and anger.  
  
"No," replied Malfoy at last. "I suppose I wouldn't, though, I'd shed no tears if it came to pass. I do believe you'd be dry-eyed at my funeral as well, should the event transpire."  
  
Ron opened his mouth to say: "Damn straight we would. We wouldn't even be there."  
  
However, what came out was something not even he expected.  
  
"No one deserves to die just because of who they are," he said, looking from Hermione to Draco and turning both their heads in his direction. "It is their actions that should save them or condemn them. Even you don't deserve to die just because you are a stupid git, Malfoy"  
  
Malfoy's cheeks tinged red with a slight shiver of anger. "If you were in a room with me tied down and alone,"  
  
Ron smirked slightly at seeing Malfoy so flustered. "Sorry Malfoy, while I'm into the dominatrix thing, my ship just doesn't float that way."  
  
", and you could kill me free of consequences, you would do it," ended Malfoy, not even acknowledging Ron's comment.  
  
"I'm sorry that you think that, Malfoy," said Ron evenly. "I hate you, and always will, but you don't deserve death. Not yet."  
  
Malfoy looked at Ron for a moment with an unreadable expression. At first, Ron wasn't sure if he was flattered or angered, but finally Malfoy smirked again, his look a cool condescendence returning.  
  
"Thanks Weasley, and if I had a choice between you dying and some random person in China, I just might choose the random person."  
  
"Simply heartwarming," muttered Hermione, rubbing her eyes with fatigue. "Anyway, back on topic, Malfoy."  
  
Ron looked to Harry while Malfoy began spilling a tale of woe about Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. Harry had remained deathly silent all throughout the conversation discussing defenseless killing, which brought Ron back nearly a month ago to Harry's bed, when the boy had been sobbing and looking to him for support. Malfoy's story faded out of Ron's mind, while he watched Harry with nervous concern. Harry had, once again, taken up that glassy sort of expression that had chilled Ron so coldly for a few days after his attempted Avada Kedavra curse.  
  
", and so, when Godric was beaten by the powers of Narhassa during his duel with Salazar," Malfoy said, "he was not killed outright. In his dying breaths, he infused his sword with the power of his own soul. Only one of his sons, with a heart of pure gold, would ever be able to use all of the blades power."  
  
"Harry," said Hermione. "Didn't you use Godric's sword in the Chamber of Secrets?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah," replied Harry distantly, breaking out of his glazed-over look. "But, I am not the Heir of Gryffindor, I am the Heir of Slytherin. The hat wanted me in Slytherin, you guys know that."  
  
"You still drew out the sword, Harry," Ron pointed out.  
  
Draco waved Ron's comment away. "Anyone with good intension can wield the sword of Godric, but only one of his heirs can call upon the hidden soul within Godric's blade."  
  
"Stories of valor and bravery?" asked Harry skeptically eying Malfoy. "Something tells me your father didn't tell you about this."  
  
Malfoy looked at Harry bluntly. "Right, I do have a mother too, you know. She told me about brave knights, Sesame Street and good will towards men while dad told me about Narhassa, Voldemort and the Dark Arts. Made me into the well balanced, beautiful person I am today."  
  
"So, basically, you are saying that only the Heir of Gryffindor has a chance of fighting off Seth Redetyor, should he manage to secure the powers of Narhassa?" asked Ron, leaning forward.  
  
Malfoy nodded. "Nothing gets past you, huh?"  
  
"But," trailed off Ron. "Who is the heir of Gryffindor?"  
  
Malfoy smirked slightly, drawing a confused look from the other three.  
  
"What's so funny?" asked Hermione testily.  
  
"This may come as a shock to you, but Godric Gryffindor was very handsome: blonde hair, gray eyes and a killer smile.  
  
Draco beamed brightly.  
  
At first Ron, did not flinch, however, upon looking over Malfoy's pale blonde hair and dim gray eyes, he finally got what he was insinuating.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
More information has been revealed here and pieces are beginning to fall into place. Is Malfoy, the Heir of Gryffindor? Will Dobby find the gang a date upon which they shall know where and when to fight against Seth, for keeps? What on Earth is going on with Harry? Was there a better reason for him trying to sling the Avada Kedavra curse, or was that a weak, unfounded attempt at Bad!Evil!Harry? And finally, will Malfoy REALLY die a virgin? Stay Tuned. 


	16. Dreams and Delusions

A/N: Would just like to thank all those who reviewed this story on Schnoogle, at FictionAlley.com! You guys inspired me to keep writing and posting my work. I hope you all like this story here as well! Please read and review, it's how I get my kicks after work. If you hate the story or are bored with it, please tell me why. While I love good reviews, I only learn from bad ones.  
  
Chapter 16: Dream and Delusions  
  
Sometime after Harry had gone to sleep Halloween night, dreams invaded his mind. He knew, somehow, he was dreaming, yet, it was not like a normal dream, or even a nightmare. He felt present at another scene, a scene that was happening very close by.  
  
"Watch Potter," hissed a voice in his ear. Harry turned to his left, but saw nothing but the wall of some nondescript corridor at Hogwarts. He spun to the right, only to see s torch burning low, casting eerie shadows about the hallway.  
  
"Who is this?" asked Harry in an alarmed tone of voice.  
  
"You know who it is, that is a clue," replied the voice. "I want you to see what is about to happen. You and I are bound, as am I with your friend. A triangle of confusion, of which only I understand all about."  
  
"Voldemort!" hissed Harry, turning about frantically. "Where are you?"  
  
"Not far, Potter, not far at all. It's come to my attention that you were able to dream about me without my awareness. You spilled this kindly to the late Crouch Jr., and for that, I am grateful. It has allowed me to see some of your dreams, in addition to controlling when you can see events as I experience them. Right now, the Destroyer is on his way. I can feel his impatience finally getting the best of him."  
  
Harry growled, but beastly noises did little to reveal Voldemort's presence.  
  
"Why now? What is about to happen!" shouted Harry, his voice sounding so distant as the halls shook with his echo.  
  
"Watch, Potter. Watch."  
  
And then, Harry became aware of footsteps behind him, echoing off the walls rapidly, suggesting someone was moving toward him at a brisk pace.  
  
A cloaked figure approached from one side of the hallway, moving through the flickering light. He was not an overly tall figure, ruling out any chance that he could be Redetyor. He paused for a moment with his cloak drawn low to his face.  
  
"Are you here?" asked the voice, suddenly telling Harry that "he" was no "he" after all. A harsh, feminine voice called out and shook Harry all over.  
  
"Y, yes," replied a very familiar voice from Harry's rear. Harry turned around just in time to see Neville Longbottom pull off an Invisibility Cloak, HIS invisibility cloak. Harry gasped inaudibly as his eyes widened in disbelief. Neville Longbottom is meeting with the Redetyor? He thought, begging for an answer to jump out at him. Why would he betray me like this?  
  
"Why, why has Seth told me to meet out here?" asked Neville, his voice shaking with stress.  
  
"Because, Neville," said the female, drawing closer to him and rubbing the back of her hand against his cheek. "He has plans and he needs your help."  
  
And then, with the whoosh of a cape flickering into the wind, four more figures seemed to appear from the walls on opposite side and stepped into the hallway, forming a small circle from which Harry was barely removed. One figure was Seth Redetyor, for he wore no hood and proudly dressed in his Slytherin school robes. Two others appeared to be shorter than anyone, and one of them spoke.  
  
"We are here, master," said a voice Harry recognized from the train two months ago. This was Bradley Trahvis, the third year Beater on the Narhassa team. Likely, the boy next to him was the other beater, but Harry could only guess.  
  
And the final cloaked figure spoke, his American accent striking a familiar nerve with Harry.  
  
"Yeah, this is everyone," replied Alex, for there was no doubt in Harry's mind that it was him.  
  
"Neville," said Seth, looking to the round-faced boy. "You have been most sensible in joining me, and I shall reward you."  
  
Neville looked down at his shoes. "I don't like this."  
  
Seth, in a show of affection Harry never would have deemed possible, broke the circle and put his hands on top of Neville's shoulders.  
  
"I know you think Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger are your friends,but name one way they have acted as such?"  
  
Neville swallowed a lump in his throat and shook his head.  
  
"They've not shown the slightest care about how much you are suffering, Neville. What I need you to do is, when I tell you to, open the main access to the Gryffindor Common Room and allow a few of my friends to enter. They will cause a ruckus that will distract the teachers and students." Seth smiled slightly. "No one will be harmed, I give my word."  
  
Neville sighed and looked into Seth's gray eyes. "Ok," he said weakly.  
  
"Very good, Neville," said Seth, withdrawing something from his robe. It was a small sack that jingled in the baron corridor. "With this, you can find yourself a place to stay this winter break and summer, perhaps the Leaky Cauldron."  
  
Neville frowned coyly at the bag, but took it. "You promise no one will be hurt?"  
  
Seth's eyes gleamed with malicious intent that only Harry could see. "Would I lie to you?"  
  
Neville shook his head and began walking away. "No, I suppose not."  
  
Harry bit his lip, wanting to cry out, however, he knew he was not there. He was within Voldemort's mind, who was somehow pertinent to this conversation, be it by tangible presence or through Seth's mind.  
  
Just how long had Neville been working for Seth, Harry could not help but wonder.  
  
"Just stay the course, Longbottom," said Seth, calling after him. "And you will get much more."  
  
Neville disappeared at the end of the hallway, having likely ducked under Harry's Invisibility Cloak.  
  
"Do he even have the first idea what we are doing?" asked the female, her voice live with cunning and evil.  
  
Seth shook his head. "No. He knows all he needs to know. He is not a big part of our plan, but he will provide an additional angle that our opposition will have to cover against."  
  
The figure Harry guessed was Bradley began to speak. "Then, to discuss the real plan, on the day you tell us, I shall lead all those third year and under in open rebellion within Hogwarts, throwing the entire school into disarray."  
  
Seth nodded slowly, while Bradley continued.  
  
"Being too young to have a formal charge within their Minestry of Magic, we will just be expelled from Hogwarts, by then, you will have awoken Narhassa."  
  
Alex spoke up. "Good. By the time anyone realizes that Seth and the rest of us are gone, it will be too late."  
  
Seth also nodded slowly. "And Guardings, you and all the fourth through seventh years shall accompany me to Ben Nevis. We may have to bust some heads, I know Voldemort is out there, waiting for us to make our move."  
  
Harry felt a dull throb within his head, as he felt a jolt of hatred pass through Voldemort's brain and into his own.  
  
"Ha!" snickered Alex. "Like this dark wizard can compete with the powers of Narhassa!"  
  
The hooded girl turned to him. Who this was, Harry did not even have the faintest clue, though a strange thought was running through his mind as to who it could be.  
  
There is just no way it could be her, no way.  
  
"You are new to the Wizarding World, and therefore foolish," she muttered, in a cold, dour tone. "Voldemort is the strongest wizard this world has ever known. Only with the power of Narhassa can we hope to defeat him."  
  
Seth nodded slowly and ruffled his collar with a free hand. "We are not to underestimate him, lest we fail. I can always feel him within my head." Seth trailed off as all eyes turned to him. "I've felt him since as long as I can remember. As a child, I was sickly and always so weak. I was made fun of, picked on, and hurt because I could not keep up with the other boys."  
  
Harry also watched Redetyor, listening to every word.  
  
"When I was eleven, I felt as though I was finally recovering from my sickness, Voldemort was no longer relying upon me and draining my life force to sustain himself. He had taken that Professor at Hogwarts, in his attempt to kill Harry Potter. He used unicorn blood and the Professor to grow stronger, allowing me one single year of relative comfort."  
  
Seth's face became twisted with rage. "And after one single year, Harry Potter ended it all for me! Some bratty, stupid eleven year old all but killed Lord Voldemort again. He was LESS than he was before, barely more than a figment of someone's imagination." He jerked his head up to glare at Alex and Bradley. "Can you imagine how that felt? The bastard required TWICE the amount of power he needed before to stay alive, and I was forced to give it to him. I was bedridden for more than a year, unable to go to school, unable to even go outside for a breath of fresh air!"  
  
The circle of hooded figures remained silent, while Harry listened with a great sense of conflicting emotions.  
  
"And oh, the pain," he laughed unsteadily. "Try drilling a hole in your chest and feeling your life blood flowing from that hole for two years, and you will have an idea of what I went through."  
  
Seth recomposed himself.  
  
"Finally, after a year, the pain began to go away. Wormtail, Voldemort's little lackey, had reconstructed him and began nurturing him back to health. Finally, this last summer, the pain was gone. All of it! With Voldermort's full resurrection, for the first time ever, I knew what it felt like to be my own person."  
  
Seth fixed each one of his followers with a cold, hard glare.  
  
"Make no mistake about it, now, I want revenge. I want Voldemort to feel the pain he made me go through, and if Harry Potter interferes, I want HIM to feel it too! Both of them caused me misery, and both of them should feel it in turn!"  
  
The girl walked up to Seth and put her arm around his shoulders.  
  
"My love, you have enough to put Potter away into Azkaban for at least a few years. Odds are, he won't survive. We both know the struggle he is going through and how pathetically weak he is without his friends. Call your own bluff, tell the world Harry Potter tried to use the Killing Curse on you."  
  
Seth shook off the girl's arm.  
  
"No!" he snapped. "I will not send Potter to Azkaban. This," The boy faltered for a moment, his emotions of pure anger and hatred getting the best of him. He paused, took a deep breath, and continued. "This is between ME and VOLDEMORT! I don't want Potter involved."  
  
"But, man, you just said," began Alex.  
  
"I KNOW WHAT I SAID!" shouted Seth angrily. "If Potter interferes, he'll get his, but it won't be at the hands of Dementors! Got it?"  
  
Alex backed down slowly. "Whatever you say."  
  
"And what if your ambitious, if not ponderous bluff goes, unheeded by Potter?" asked the smaller form of Bradley. "What then?"  
  
Seth paused for a moment, the dim torchlight making his face burn with a cold lifeless tone. "You just worry your diversion, Trahvis. Leave Potter to me if he becomes bothersome."  
  
The shadowy figure bowed his head slowly. "As you wish."  
  
"I believe this concludes the meeting," said Seth calmly, crossing his arms. "You all know your specific roles. When we awaken Narhassa and are brought to glory, all of our dreams will come true. Wealth, fame, glory, power, whatever your motivation is, Narhassa can sate it so long as you are ready and able to give a maximum response when the time comes."  
  
Alex nodded slowly, and Harry could almost here him smirking from beneath his hood. "Let no one stand in our way, then."  
  
With that, Seth turned about and began walking in the direction Neville had gone a few minutes ago. After a moment, he faded away.  
  
"I think Redetyor is losing it," muttered Alex, looking to his other three fellows.  
  
Bradley looked to Alex, his hood still covering all of his face. "Sparing the Potter boy is a foolish risk. Why is he taking it?"  
  
"Because," said the unidentified female slowly, in her dark, methodical voice. "He feels a kinship with Potter, despite what he has inadvertently done to make his life harder. Both have suffered at the hands of Voldemort, and both want revenge. I'm only surprised by the fact he has chosen to be Potter's enemy instead of his ally."  
  
"Nevertheless," snorted Alex, as he turned to go. "I still want to crush Potter's larynx with my boot."  
  
"You may get your chance," said the girl, calling after him as Alex began walking in the opposite direction as Seth and Neville. "If Potter interferes, Seth will have no choice but to end his life. He is not going to risk the powers of Narhassa falling into the hands of the Heir of Slytherin!"  
  
"Good," said Bradley, taking his first few steps away, as his other companion, who had not even spoken a word, turned to leave as well. "And you, Ms. Spencer, when Longbottom lets you into Gryffindor Tower again, you had best provide a healthy distraction. We can handle the students of Hogwarts for long enough, but if the Professors are able to oppose us, we won't last long."  
  
The girl identified as Spencer nodded slowly and clicked her tongue. "Understandable, young lad, make no mistake. The distraction I will create will be most formidable. We have a loose end in Gryffindor that I shall tie up, permanently." The girl then smiled. ", and if you take a familiar tone with me again, I'll rip off your ears and feed them to you."  
  
Bradley did not speak any further and left the woman in the hallway alone. Finally, after a moment of reflection, the woman took off, walking in the opposite direction as Alex, Bradley and his unidentified companion went, leaving Harry alone.  
  
"So you see," echoed the voice within his head. "We both have a common enemy, Potter."  
  
Harry closed his eyes and swallowed a nervous lump in his throat. "We don't have a common enemy, Voldemort. Redetyor and I do."  
  
There was the sound of cackling within his head. "If he is able to awaken Narhassa, all the souls you saw him taking will be stolen. Redetyor is hardly as honorable as he sounds. Once he has the power of Narhassa, he will betray his Order, just as Salazar did."  
  
"And then he will kill you," snapped Harry, feeling cold and sick all over. "Perhaps the ends will justify the means."  
  
"Perhaps," hissed Voldemort inside of Harry's head. "Or, maybe, I've already found a way to protect myself from some pitiful little boy like Redetyor, and when I destroy your new friend, I, and I alone, will take the powers of Narhassa."  
  
Harry sighed with hopelessness. "Why are you showing me this?"  
  
Voldemort laughed again. "Why do you ask questions you already know the answer too?"  
  
Harry thought for a moment, opening his eyes and staring at his shoes. Sure enough, the answer drifted into his head like a seashell with the tide.  
  
"You want me to leave Hogwarts, using this information, to stop Redetyor, and when I do, you will strike at me again."  
  
There was a moment of silence, and then a gradual, dark and mirthless chuckle. "You know what, Potter, I'll tell you the truth. You are correct. Once you leave Hogwarts to chase after Redetyor, I will do everything in my power to make sure you never see that school again."  
  
Harry looked around defiantly. "Well, maybe I'll choose not to go!"  
  
"You could not make that choice even if you wanted to," sneered Voldemort, his voice no longer sounding amused. "Like your father, you too will put yourself into mortal danger to save the lives of the innocent."  
  
Desiring nothing more than to find a comeback for Voldemort's slandering of his father and assumptions about his actions, Harry opened his mouth to speak. Yet, all that came out was a blood-curdling yell of helplessness and frustration.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
As motivated as Harry was to do something, however, so long as the day that House Narhassa would act remained within Seth Redetyor's head, he was powerless to do much. Telling Dumbledore about what he had seen and heard would not be a step in the right direction; Harry was not even sure if he believed it himself, perhaps it was all a trick of Voldemort's to simply lure him out of the school, and the opposite of Dumbledore helping would occur. Perhaps he would order someone to watch Harry at all times, for his own protection, preventing him from spying on Redetyor.  
  
Such doubt clogged Harry's mind and plagued every waking moment for the next two weeks. So doubtful was he that he was unable to catch the Snitch at the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff game, allowing their third year Seeker, a young girl with only marginal skill to finally take the game, 350 to 330, one of the closest Quiddich matches in Hogwarts' History.  
  
And it was those events that finally prompt Ron to speak to him again, in the Common Room, by the fire. Sean had been about the only one who had not taken to ignoring Harry for the next few hours, out of depression for dropping such a heart breaker to Hufflepuff.  
  
"What happened, Harry?" asked Ron as he flopped down in the chair next to Harry. "You flew like Malfoy today."  
  
Harry sighed deeply, inhaling through his nose. He had told Ron about his dream and the red-haired boy gave it due consideration. Hermione also considered it, but Harry did not get much of a chance to see her, as she was always in the library doing schoolwork or researching Narhassa. It was Sean, however, who sat up late at night with Harry in the Common Room, talking it over with him an exploring all possible avenues.  
  
There major focus of discussion was Neville Longbottom. If Harry's dream was accurate, Neville was about to do something that would put all of Gryffindor Tower into jeopardy. Part of Harry wanted to throb Neville silly, however, if Harry proved to Neville that he knew about their little diversion, Neville would likely report back to Seth, and their whole plan would change.  
  
Harry and Sean came to the decision that their knowledge of Neville's treachery must be kept low, until they found a specific date upon which Narhassa planned to act, and then find a way to deter Neville from opening the Common Room door that day using any means necessary.  
  
"There is just a lot on my mind," explained Harry. "I feel like I'm trapped, you know?"  
  
Ron shook his head. "No. Explain though."  
  
Harry dug his elbows into his thighs and propped his chin upon his fists. "On one hand, Seth wants revenge against Voldemort. Yet, if I stay out of his way, he will awaken Narhassa, sacrificing the souls of all of the students in House Narhassa. On the other hand, if I interfere, Voldemort will take another shot at me, and this instance, he won't take his time finishing me off. He learned that toying with me provides ample opportunity for me to escape."  
  
Ron smirked and slouched in his chair lazily. "Either way, we loose."  
  
Harry glanced over to Ron. "What's so funny?"  
  
"I don't really know," said Ron, with a humorous glint in his normally modest voice. "It's just the thought of Malfoy, holding up Gryffindor's sword and saying 'evil villain, now you will meet your end', it doesn't really work with his 'married to You-Know-Who' image."  
  
Harry too, cracked a rare smile at the mental picture.  
  
"I admit," began Harry. "Malfoy does not fit the mold very well as an Heir of Gryffindor type person, but then again Ron, do you see me on par with Salazar Slytherin, just because his blood flows through my veins?"  
  
Ron shook his head without delay. "No, I suppose I don't. But, I mean, with you, there were some clues. I mean, you speak Parceltongue and the Sorting Hat wanted you in Slytherin. Heck, you opened the Chamber of bloody Secrets. With Malfoy, the hat barely even touched his head before it cried out Slytherin, don't you remember?"  
  
"All too well," said Harry thriftily, lifting his head from his hands. "I do not trust Malfoy. The only information that suggests Malfoy might be the Heir of Gryffindor is what he told us. We don't even know if that is how Gryffindor looked."  
  
A small boy leaping on the sofa next to Harry and Ron and flopping down on his back momentarily interrupted further conversation.  
  
"Hey guys!" said Sean, as he lie back into the pillows. "You guys talking about Narhassa?"  
  
Ron raised an upper lip, not bothering to hide any contempt, however, Harry turned to Sean. "Yeah. We are talking about what Malfoy said a few weeks ago."  
  
Sean chuckled a bit as he folded his arms behind his head. "Oh yeah, right: The Heir of Gryffindor. That's just funny. Do you really think it's him?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "I was just saying I had my reservations about the whole situation. Then, take into consideration my dream, I think there is only one thing to do, actually."  
  
Both Sean and Ron sat up in their seats. "What?" they asked at the same time.  
  
There was a long silence as Harry looked between his two friends and back into the fire. "I need to talk to Redetyor before it is too late."  
  
To Harry's surprise, this suggestion was not met with much surprise.  
  
"If all Redetyor wants is revenge against Voldemort," began Sean. "Can't you two work out something together? Isn't that what you want too?"  
  
Ron, perhaps on instinct, took the polar view. "Redetyor has proven his own desire to steal the souls of the students of Narhassa. He is no ally to be had."  
  
Harry puffed out his cheeks and exhaled sharply. "All I know is that I need to do something. The last time Voldemort had time to think about catching me, I escaped by mere luck. This time, I sense that if I meet Voldemort without protection, my luck will run out. Yet, Voldemort is also right, I cannot and will not sit by while Redetyor defeats him and swaps a modern evil dark wizard for an ancient evil fallen angel demigod."  
  
Ron looked to Sean with a begrudging leer, as if forecasting that, what he was about to say was not what he wanted to.  
  
Harry sighed again. "I have to talk to Redetyor soon."  
  
Ron and Sean, both not liking that idea, frowned deeply. After a tense moment of silence, Ron spoke up, snapping his head up to look at Sean.  
  
"You don't remember anything useful from your dreams, right?" asked Ron in a hopeful voice.  
  
Sean sighed and shook his head. "The dreams have stopped, Ron," he said downheartedly. "They somehow figured out that I am not with them. Whenever I go to my Fantastic Phenomenon class, they treat me like a virus that they want purged from the class for good. I can feel their hatred for me; it makes me scared. Even Alex insults me now when I try to speak to him."  
  
Harry looked between Sean and Ron for a moment. It was a good sign that they were not tearing into each other like wild animals, however, it was clear that an obvious tension still existed between the two. Ron avoided Sean's eyes, sitting back in his chair.  
  
After a few moments of silence, Sean was surprised by Hermione, who sat down next to him on the sofa, right on his legs again. Sean was quick to yelp in protest, but was also quick to put his arm around her after. Harry could almost hear Ron flushing over scarlet, without even looking at him.  
  
"Anyway, do you guys want get some dinner?" asked Hermione. "I'd like to eat early today and get to the library before curfew to get some easy reading material."  
  
"Ah," said Ron stiffly. "A thousand page book about ancient religion?"  
  
"No," said Hermione factually. "For the past few weeks, I've been trying to trace the lineage of Godric Gryffindor to see if he has roots to the Malfoy family or not. I want to see if Draco is full of it. So far, there is no proof that the Malfoy's are related in any way to Godric."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "I can answer that for you without a book, Hermione. He's a bloody liar, and he will die a virgin."  
  
Hermione blinked at Ron sophisticatedly. "Well, thank you for that scientific analysis, Professor Weasley."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. Oh please, not now,he thought.  
  
"It's called thinking, Hermione. Once in your life, you should forget about books and try it!" retorted Ron.  
  
So much for begging, thought Harry with a sigh as he settled in for a long fight. Sean also looked to Harry and shook his head slowly, a smile finding its way to his face.  
  
"Book?" bellowed Hermione. "Don't use big words you don't understand! Have you even touched one all year!"  
  
"Big words, Hermione? Are we back to the size discussion again?" snapped Ron testily.  
  
"Hey Sean," said Harry, calling over their shouting. "Hungry?"  
  
Sean lifted his arms from Hermione's shoulders. "Yeah, I think so." Sean pecked Hermione on the cheek, who was too busy screaming her next insult to pay him much mind. "I'll see you later, babe."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Long after Harry and Sean had left, Hermione and Ron had continued their verbal duel. Most of the people in the common room had enough sense to ignore them, or seek entertainment in the Great Hall or in their dorm rooms rather than tell them to keep it down.  
  
By now, they were standing face to face, practically shouting each other's ears off.  
  
"I'll tell you another thing!" roared Ron. "If books didn't exist in this world, you wouldn't know so much!"  
  
Hermione cocked her head, her rage seeming to suddenly shift into amusement. "Ron, that made no sense whatsoever. Without books, no one would know so much."  
  
Ron also bit his lips, a puzzled expression crossing over his face. "Oh yeah." He glanced around curiously, scratching the top of his head. "Hey, where'd Harry and Sean go?"  
  
Hermione blinked, and looked around. "Um, good question. I have no idea. Did they say they were leaving?"  
  
At that, Ron burst out laughing, collapsing into the sofa that Sean had been sitting on, holding his gut.  
  
"Yeah, they probably did, dozens of times," laughed Ron.  
  
Hermione also shook her head, a feminine giggle escaping from her lips as she flopped down next to Ron.  
  
"Why do we always fight, Ron?" she asked, lying back deeply into the sofa.  
  
Ron leaned against the arm of the sofa and visually took Hermione in, as he always did whenever she was not talking to him, or looking the other way. Her wavy, long hair billowed down her head and lapped around her shoulders with such graceless elegance that Ron could not begin to explain it. Her large, brown eyes seemed to envelope him when he looked at them, for they were always filled with a consuming hunger for something, except now. She seemed perfectly content right now to be sitting on the sofa next to him. Her body language was relaxed, showing the vague impression of a lovely soldier after a long, but successful fight.  
  
Ron kicked off his sneakers at last and put his feet on the sofa, practically spanning the distance between them.  
  
"I don't think anyone else is worth fighting with," said Ron, with a genuine smile on his face. "You can't fight with Harry, Malfoy is just no fun to fight with since I mean everything I say, and Sean, well,"  
  
Ron trailed off, lowering his head to stare directly at his own knees. Hermione turned to him with a concerned look.  
  
"Please, Ron," said Hermione softly. "What were you going to say?"  
  
Ron's leg shook with a bit of trepidation as his face blazed over scarlet. He wanted to just get it off his chest, yet something churned within his stomach and flashed within his soul. He had analyzed this feeling before and knew it to be his inner warrior, who would never lead him to be dishonored or embarrassed.  
  
Ron could never ignore this voice.  
  
"It's not that important," countered Ron weakly.  
  
Hermione did not seem to be letting him out of the corner of this conversation, however. "Yes, it is," she riposted. "What is it about Sean?"  
  
After a long pause, his leg began quivering visibly as the nervous tension culminated. His inner warrior continued to scream at him to deny, evade, parry or otherwise avoid this question, but something within him finally allowed this voice to be quieted for a moment.  
  
"I'm jealous of him," whispered Ron, in a voice so weak, that he barely heard it himself. Ron had no problem telling Harry this, but when it was Hermione that he spoke to, there was so much strain on his words that he found it hard to breath.  
  
Hermione apparently heard him, for she blinked with concern. "But why?"  
  
Now that the door was open, Ron was finding it easier and easier to put a bit more of himself out in the open for Hermione to see.  
  
"Because," began Ron, his lip now joining his leg in a terrified jig. "He, he, got to have you."  
  
Ron had played this scenario a thousand times within his head and each time, Hermione had slapped him, screamed at him, thrown something at him, or ran away from him. In reality, however, there was only one emotion on her face, pure shock.  
  
"What?" she asked feebly, her face paling slightly.  
  
At first, Ron took this as a bad sign. He was on the verge of scaring her off, she was going to freak out and hate him forever.  
  
"I, like you, Hermione," stammered Ron, sweat visibly pouring down from his face. "I've liked you, for so long,"  
  
Hermione looked away from Ron, staring long and hard into the fire before them. Ron could only see one of her eyes from that angle, but it was not telling anything about her internal thoughts.  
  
"Please, tell me you don't mean that," said Hermione softly, her eyes beginning to water up. "Please tell me that, what you are doing now, is some kind of Ron Weasley 'lead-you-on' joke."  
  
Ron, unable to find words to express his own embarrassment or shame, just hung his head. Our friendship is gone now. She will never want to talk to me again. Great going, Ron, he thought.  
  
Hermione sniffled slowly, as her emotions began to get the best of her. "Your friendship, is the most important thing in my life," she began, putting a hand to her forehead. "And when you have a boyfriend who tells you how much he loves you at every turn, I don't know what to make of that."  
  
Ron looked up for a moment, his own emotions beginning to break through his rocky hard exterior. He wanted to say the same thing, but it just was not true. He valued Harry's friendship so much more than Hermione's, and he knew it. With Harry, it was a mutual respect, the one thing Ron felt no one else gave him. Ron just did not feel Hermione respected him as much as Harry did.  
  
"All around me," continued Hermione. "I'm surrounded by people who think I am a genius."  
  
"Well, you are," said Ron uneasily. "But brains aren't everything."  
  
Hermione smiled weakly, pushing a tear out of her eye. "True."  
  
Ron sighed. He had practiced this speech well over a thousand times throughout the course of two months. It was now time to lay it on her, and not even his inner warrior would stop him.  
  
"Hermione," was as far as he got, before his tongue cramped up and his stomach knotted. Perhaps it would stop me, thought Ron.  
  
Hermione looked at Ron, her eyes still moist from emotion. "Yes?"  
  
Ron felt his speech falling apart within his head, as if some alien presence within him was grabbing the words from his lungs and running around his body with them, while Ron tried to catch him. He needed to say something, he could not leave her hanging here.  
  
"I, love you," he blurted out, before he even realized what he said.  
  
Hermione's face of control fell completely aghast. "Well, I mean, Ron, I love you too," she stammered defensively. "Ever since first year, we've been, been like a family."  
  
Ron staggered under the weight of the word 'brother,' but would not be deterred after all this time.  
  
"No," said Ron. "I love you like, um, a girlfriend,"  
  
Hermione shook her head. "No, Ron. You cannot mean that. Stop, please," she rasped.  
  
"It, it hurts me when I see you together with Sean," continued Ron, on the verge of tears itself.  
  
"Stop it!" hissed Hermione, shaking her head in denial. She stood up, loomed over him and began scolding him. "Stop it right now! This is not fair! It's not fair to Sean!"  
  
Ron sighed. "I can't help it Hermione," he said, the words finally easing out of his chest. "I'm in love with you,"  
  
SLAP!  
  
Hermione drove the palm of her hand hard into Ron's cheek, tears streaming down her face. And then, she backed off, looking at her own hand, as if only now becoming aware of what she had done. With a frustrated moan, she turned around and raced up the stairs, drawing some very confused looks from those across the Common Room.  
  
Ron sat there in stunned silence, not even thinking and barely remembering to breath. His face did not even sting in the least bit, for the pain in his stomach, a deep feeling of shame in his chest, hurt so much more. Ron heaved a deep sigh, but at the same time, he could not help but feel proud.  
  
He had told Hermione how he felt, and now it was over. There were no more secrets between him and her. The fact she had slapped him was of burning consequence, but it was a severe emotional response.  
  
For a strange reason, while the shame was there, a strange feeling of liberation overshadowed it. There was nothing left for him to do, it was in Hermione's hands to shoot him down. While the prospects looked rather dim at this point, it was still nice to know that he had done everything, at last.  
  
And despite his burning red cheek, Ron managed a smile.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Next Chapter: The beginning of the end. The date is disclosed at long last, and Hermione finds something in the library that will really help them, and perhaps the rest of the students. Also, we will come to a better understanding of why Hermione acted the way she did.  
  
A few questions still remain: Who is the mystery woman working for Redetyor, is it Jessica, as many think? And a big question of "Is Draco or isn't he" the Heir of Gryffindor still remains. Rest assured, these questions will be answered in time. 


	17. Judgment Day

A/N: Would just like to thank all those who reviewed this story on Schnoogle, at FictionAlley.com! You guys inspired me to keep writing and posting my work. I hope you all like this story here as well! Please read and review, it's how I get my kicks after work. If you hate the story or are bored with it, please tell me why. While I love good reviews, I only learn from bad ones.  
  
Chapter 17: Judgment Day  
  
Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing as him and Ron made their way up to Divination, two days after Ron's confession to Hermione. As usual, they were running late, but neither boy cared.  
  
"So, let me get this straight," said Harry with a chortle. "You tell Hermione that you like her and she starts crying. Then, you tell her you love her, and she slaps you across the face?"  
  
Ron laughed uncomfortably at that. "Apparently so."  
  
"Blimey," chuckled Harry as they made their way through the crowded stairwell. "Love her to death, but she does get her priorities mixed up often, doesn't she?"  
  
"Yeah," said Ron, his humorous expression fading. "It's good that I got it off my chest, I think, it's almost liberating. But," he faltered his words, a frown forming on his face. "I think it cost us our friendship."  
  
Harry peered forward with a knowing glint beneath his black-rimmed glasses. "I have a hypothesis."  
  
Ron cast Harry a sidelong glance. "Ok, Hermione," he said good- naturedly.  
  
"Seems to me like she loves you too," offered Harry. "I think she's so frustrated that you waited this long to tell her, especially since she is going out with Sean now."  
  
"You really think so?" asked Ron, looking to Harry hopefully.  
  
Harry looked back to Ron, with a wry smirk. "No, I just said for good luck, what do you think?"  
  
A slight smile returned to Ron's face. "In truth, I had not made up my mind."  
  
They began climbing the stairway up into the ceiling that lead into Professor Trelawney's room, only to find a disgruntled looking Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown heading back down the stairs.  
  
"What's going on?" asked Harry, as the two girls walked past them.  
  
"You tell us," replied Lavender. "She said that class is cancelled today for everyone except you two."  
  
Ron and Harry exchanged bewildered looks.  
  
"Seems rather suspect to me," commented Parvati with a giggle. "You, Ron, Professor Trelawney, an empty room and a whole lot of strange props."  
  
Lavender put an elegant hand to her lips.  
  
"Oh no," she commented with a laugh. "Ron's got it on for Hermione, not Trelawney."  
  
Parvati's eyes went completely wide as she stared at Lavender with a look that Harry easily recognized as a "you-aren't-supposed-to-know-that- you-stupid-tart" glare.  
  
"She told you?" asked Ron, his voice sounding both shocked and downtrodden.  
  
Parvati sighed and looked upon Ron as if he were the stupidest person in the planet. "She locked herself in her room all yesterday. What did you think she was doing? Her nails?"  
  
Lavander's smile faded as she saw the look of pain on Ron's face. Clearly, her benevolent nature took the driver's seat.  
  
"Look, you didn't hear it from me, of course, you figured this out with your amazing intuition, but for as long as Hermione has been going out with Sean, she has been talking about you non-stop."  
  
Ron cocked his head in total confusion. "What?"  
  
Parvati sighed. "She likes Sean and all, but he wants to spend all his time with her. I just want to tell him, "Hello?' Take a hint, she likes you, but she doesn't want to wake up and go to bed to your face every day."  
  
Harry cleared his throat, his face showing more than a bit of a dour expression. "Sean's my friend, you know. If you wish to bash him, you might want to swear me to secrecy first."  
  
Ron, however, sang a different tune. "What has she been saying about me?"  
  
Lavender waved her finger in the air teasingly. "Now, that would be telling, but from one Gryffindor to another, I think she is frustrated because she had given up hope on you coming around."  
  
"I just never thought," began Ron. "I mean, she never showed the slightest,"  
  
"Ahem," cut off Parvati. "Look, 'she thought' 'you thought' isn't going to help now. You follow up on what you did two days ago, or you'll loose her forever."  
  
Harry crossed his arms and looked to Ron, that action telling his friend all he needed about his own personal stance on the matter.  
  
"Why are you two being so nice to me?" asked Ron, looking to Parvati and Lavender.  
  
The two Gryffindor girls exchanged mischievous glances. "Hey, we want to see you get together with Hermione, to finally shut her trap," said Parvati.  
  
"And to dispel the constant dread that you might start chasing MY skirt, Weasley," added Lavender with a cold laugh.  
  
Ron heard the sound of labored breathing behind him, and turned around to see Harry, doing his best to suck on the side of his hand in an attempt to keep a laugh hidden.  
  
"Sure, encourage them," muttered Ron with mock anger. He looked back to Lavender and Parvati. "Look, thanks."  
  
The two girls giggled. "Anyway, have fun with your private session with Professor Trelawney," added Parvati as she continued descending the steps. "Tell us all the steamy details."  
  
The strange kindness shown to Ron by Parvati and Lavender, two girls he was sure desired to keep them well beyond arms length, had momentarily taken his mind off this strange predicament they were about to walk in to. Never before in two years of classes had Professor Trelawney cancelled the class for all but a few students.  
  
Harry led the way into the stifling hot Divination classroom, followed shortly by a rather lightheaded and giddy Ron. As always, the room was littered with small, round tables lined with cushioned chairs and fluffy pillows. And from behind the large table at the front of the classroom, the misty looking, petite woman peered upon each of them, her large eyes enhanced by her dainty looking spectacles.  
  
"You are nearly ten minutes late," she said airily, "not that I did not foresee your delay."  
  
Ron and Harry looked at each other, and then back to their Professor.  
  
"What's going on?" asked Harry.  
  
Professor Trelawney spread out her arms reverently and looked up to the ceiling. "The Fates have told me that, today, you two are to be given a lesson by yourselves. A grim future I see before you both and I must do whatever I can to bring my third eye to bare."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes and sighed, while Harry's attention span was already drifting.  
  
"Look," Harry said, trying his best to sound serious. "We've already predicted that we will be hung, stabbed, shot, electrocuted, baked, crucified, burned, eviscerated, drowned and disintegrated throughout the year. I do not know if our fate can look much grimmer."  
  
Harry winced as Ron burst out laughing next to him, drawing a surprised look from Professor Trelawney. Apparently, her third eye was of little help in detecting sarcasm, for she seemed to take Harry completely seriously.  
  
"Unfortunately, it appears that Fate itself is your enemy, Mr. Potter, and I am concerned," she said loftily, her eyes becoming glazed over and distant. "I received a dream last night, as I always do. Last night, you and Mr. Weasley were in my dream, reaching for the stars, hand and hand, trying your best,"  
  
Harry bit his lip to prevent a chuckle from escaping his mouth while Ron, having much less luck, was forced to bit the side of his hand to choke a second fit of laughter back into his lungs.  
  
", you are both striving for a goal, an unreachable goal, and you both will face a trial that will determine whether or not you have accomplished this goal. In the unlikely event you succeed, you will then undergo another trial, a far deadlier one,"  
  
A harsh, spitting noise broke through Ron's hand as he was unable to hold back hysteria any longer. Upon seeing Ron's resolve falter, Harry succumbed as well, a laugh blowing past his closed lips forcefully.  
  
"What is so funny?" Professor Trelawney snapped indignantly. "I did not tell a joke!"  
  
"I, I'm, sorry, Professor," said Harry, in between fits of laughter.  
  
The normally mysterious and very subtle woman tapped her foot upon the floor of her classroom. "What do you find so funny?"  
  
Finally, Harry recomposed himself enough to speak out an intelligible sentence. "Professor, can we ask you a question without you getting offended?"  
  
Professor Trelawney seemed a bit taken back by this question, as if nothing Harry could ask would possibly offend her. "I would think so, Mr. Potter, I know exactly what question you are about to ask."  
  
"Professor," began Harry trying his best to hide a patronizing tone, but failing in most respects. "In the two years I have been in your class, I have pictured my own death at least two hundred times in two hundred different ways."  
  
Professor Trelawney's pale face allowed her a slight smile.  
  
"Doubting the accuracy of your third eye then, Mr. Potter?" she asked affectedly.  
  
"Eh," began Harry nonchalantly, subtly tossing his head from side to side in an attempt to be subtle. "I guess I just doubt the accuracy of third eyes in general."  
  
What he expected to be a fierce retort continued to be nothing more than a mild smile. Professor Trelawney sat down behind her large table, and she bid both boys to sit down. Two chairs magically appeared out of thin air. Harry and Ron cautiously sat down on the other side of the table in the newly created seats.  
  
"You two have been in my class for two years, as you have said, so, I shall let you in on a little secret," she began. "No amount of hard work can develop your third eyes. I understand that most of your homework assignments are resolved by guesswork and humor."  
  
She stared at Ron in particular, who blushed and smiled weakly.  
  
"What I do is teach you methods of literally "warming up" any potential you might have. Some Diviners do not know they are diviners until years after they have begun their first tarot readings."  
  
Harry could not hide the fact he was a bit surprised. He had always taken Trelawney's class for granted; it seemed like a pushover class and an easy A. While for all intent in purpose, it still was, in Harry's eyes, Trelawney did not seem so daft anymore.  
  
"Professor Trelawney," asked Ron arbitrarily, as he folded his hands coyly. "If we were to ask you a question, could you answer it, using your Third Eye?"  
  
"Well, of course I could," she replied hastily. "But, the question itself may have no merit in Fate. Besides, I am not sure if that is what we should be talking about."  
  
Ron waved the latter part of her dialogue away impatiently. "Yeah. Right. Sure, anyway, could we ask you?"  
  
Harry looked back to Ron, a growing smile forming on his face. He knew exactly what question Ron was about to ask.  
  
"Yeah, Professor," said Harry, looking back to Trelawney with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "If we are in such mortal peril, we will need more answers if we are to have any chance of overcoming it."  
  
"Very well," said Trelawney, removing from her robes a deck of Tarot cards. "Ask if you wish."  
  
Ron folded his hands and sat up straight, leaning forward intently. "Who is the Heir of Gryffindor?"  
  
"The Heir of Gryffindor," began Professor Trelawney, looking to her deck of Tarot cards with failing confidence. She quickly slipped the deck back into her robe, shaking her head. "Tarot cards predict general fates, they do not answer specific questions. What we will need is my crystal ball."  
  
Trelawney reached under her table and produced her melon-sized crystal ball from one of the many drawers on her side.  
  
"The Heir of Gryffindor," she began dreamily as she waved her hands over the crystal ball. Then she fell completely silent.  
  
Ron and Harry both stared into the crystal ball, seeing nothing but the shapeless blurs of every object on the opposite side of the ball meshing into incomprehensible garbage within.  
  
What must have been five minutes passed by as their Professor stared unblinking into the crystal ball. Ron huffed with impatience, shaking his head while Harry sighed.  
  
"Oh, this is not good," said Professor Trelawney, with an over exaggerated.  
  
"Let me guess," said Ron, with the enthusiasm of a corpse. "A Grim?"  
  
"Your third eye serves you well, Mr. Weasley," said Professor Trelawney with a mysterious voice.  
  
"To piss with this," snapped Ron, standing up. "We asked you a serious question, the least you could say is 'you don't know!'"  
  
And, suddenly, the hair on the back of Harry's neck rose high. While his third eye was blind, his sixth sense was screaming that something was not right. Professor Trelawney looked up from her crystal ball, her eyes red as blood,  
  
Harry gasped and lurched up so quickly that his chair smacked into Ron's legs, causing the boy to wince slightly,  
  
"Harry, what are," began Ron until he saw Professor Trelawney before him. His breath caught within his lungs, coming out as a haggard wheeze.  
  
The candles that lit up the area began to flare from passive orange to bright blue, and then to a lime green, and finally to a jet-black color. A heavy breeze whipped around the room, blowing Harry's messy hair wildly about his head.  
  
"Listen closely, Godric's flock,, for the Dark Times are drawing near!" roared Professor Trelawney, in a voice Harry had heard once before, in his first and only nightmare concerning Sean. It was a loud, deep voice that crackled through Harry's fortitude like a whip.  
  
Ron's eyes widened with terror as he knocked over a small table, backing away.  
  
"On the night of Slytherin, to mark the start of the Era of Darkness, one of you will never live again!"  
  
Three chairs suddenly shot into the air, slamming into the ceiling and shattering into a thousand pieces.  
  
" SLAIN THAT ONE WILL BE! SLAIN BEFORE THE POWERS OF NARHASSA, and DOOMED to forever walk the world a shade of their former self!"  
  
Harry and Ron were suddenly rocketed backward by a burst of force, which overturned the large table before them, shattering the crystal ball upon the ground with an explosion of light. Harry used the palm of his hand to shield himself as crystal fragments pelted him with stinging fury. Ron escaped with no injury, for he was directly behind Harry. With a gasp, Ron grabbed Harry's failing body and helped him keep his feet. He was covered from head to toe with nasty little protrusions of crystal shards.  
  
" And to those who save themselves on the Night of Narhassa will find only torment and unrest as the Era itself will begin, FOR HE WILL RISE AGAIN, FREED FROM THE ETERNAL HOLD OF HELL BY ONE TOO FOOLISH TO UNDERSTAND THE MAGNETUDE OF HIS OWN ACTIONS!"  
  
Harry lowered his bleeding hand, for a knife-sized shard was sticking straight through his palm. Had his hand not been there, Harry warily realized that there was a good chance that it would be sticking straight through his head.  
  
Drops of crimson were flowing free from his neck, where a smaller piece had lodged itself. In addition, several more minor cuts covered his body and slashed his robes.  
  
"WITH HIS RESSURRECTION, THE MOON WILL BLEED AND THE SEAS WILL FREEZE! THE STARS WILL FALL AND THE GROUND WILL RISE! THE EARTH ITSELF WILL QUAKE IN FEAR, FOR EVEN IT KNOWS NOTHING WILL BE ABLE TO SAVE IT!"  
  
And, with that, Professor Trelawney, who had numerous cuts all over her body as well, collapsed into a heap upon the ground.  
  
Harry glanced down at his gushing hand and the shard within, taking deep breaths. Ron, blinking away his terror in face of his friend's plight, ripped off a part of his sleeve, grabbed Harry by his wrist and began wrapping the cloth around his injury. Ron had seen his mother take care of countless injuries Fred and George had brought upon themselves in their adventurers in the neighborhood to knew how to deal with them, even without magical aid.  
  
"Come on," said Ron, when the marginally effective bandaging was done. He slung Harry's good arm around his neck. "We need to get you to Madam Pomfrey's."  
  
And with that, Harry allowed his best friend to half-walk, half-drag him out of Trelawney's room. Being barely conscious, Ron knew he couldn't protest his help if he tired.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
As was the legacy with Hogwarts, the secret did not last for longer than a half-hour. When word of the prediction reached Dumbledore as he taught the Narhassa students, Sean was the first one to leap out of his seat and rush out the door, followed shortly by Jessica. He did not stop sprinting through the desolate corridors of the school until he nearly trampled over Ron Weasley, who was sitting outside of the hospital wing, in nervous angst. His school robes were stained with dark, splotchy patches, while his hands were caked with dry blood.  
  
"What happened?" demanded Sean, his shoes screeching to a halt before Ron.  
  
Ron shook his head, in complete disbelief of the events. Jessica arrived on the scene, shortly after, shoving Sean aside as if he were a complete afterthought.  
  
"Is he alright, is he alright?" she screeched, looking down to Ron.  
  
Ron nodded feebly. "He'll be fine. Madam Pomfrey said that she needs to seal up a few cuts and replace some blood, but he'll be fine."  
  
"Can I see him?" demanded Jessica. "Please,"  
  
Ron shrugged meekly and shook his head. "Madam Pomfrey doesn't want him to have any visitors right now."  
  
Before Jessica could ask another question, the old Headmaster, dressed in his usual royal red robe appeared at the end of the hallway, walking briskly toward them.  
  
"Mr. Weasley," called Dumbledore in his always-present calm tone. "Come with me please, and yes, you may come too Mr. Camaradi."  
  
Jessica swallowed a nervous lump in her throat, just as Hermione rushed around the corner, running briskly to the hospital wing.  
  
"Is he ok?" she panted, out of breath.  
  
Ron took a step toward her, hugging her without shame as Dumbledore and Sean both turned around. Hermione, apparently forgetting she was supposed to hate Ron's guts, hugged him back in panic.  
  
"What happened?" she asked him as she held him close.  
  
"Ms. Rennings," said Dumbledore, "why don't you go in and check on Harry. I'm sure he will want to see you as soon as he is able. Mr. Weasley, come explain to us what happened on the way to my office."  
  
Sean looked over at the stunningly attractive blonde-haired girl. Jessica, for a split second, seemed to loose her utterly grieved appearance and reinvented her countenance with a suspicious, cold quality that made Sean shiver.  
  
"If it's all the same to you, Headmaster," she said softly, "I'd like to come with you, Harry needs his rest."  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm sorry, Ms. Rennings, but I do not require you. I need Mr. Weasley for a testimony of what happened, and his friends will be needed to put him at ease. Now, do please carry on."  
  
Jessica's eyes lingered upon Sean a moment longer, but finally, she recomposed herself.  
  
"Very well," she said, and without another word, she turned heel and entered the hospital wing. The door closed behind her with a resounding thud.  
  
Ron released Hermione, his own worries being driven out of his mind by her presence.  
  
"Come now," said Dumbledore, as he began a brisk walk through the halls of Hogwarts. Ron, Hermione and Sean were quick to follow.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
In stark contrast to how empty the halls were a moment ago, students were now rushing to and fro, gossiping loudly in the hallways.  
  
"Did you here what happened to Harry Potter?"  
  
"I heard something happened to Harry!"  
  
"Which Harry?"  
  
"THE HARRY!"  
  
And then it was a drawling voice that broke through the crowd as Ron followed Dumbledore to his office.  
  
"Weasley!" demanded the voice as the pale and pointed form of Draco Malfoy soon followed it, breaking through a group of first year Narhassa students. "What happened to Potter!"  
  
"Sod off, Malfoy," sneered Ron. "Like you care anyway."  
  
Draco fell into step with the small precession pushing their way through the cluttered halls.  
  
"If this has something to do with Redetyor, I want to know." Draco puffed up like a ghostly peacock. "After all, since I am the Heir of Gryffindor, I'll have to fight him."  
  
"That has yet to be seen," said Sean coldly, from the other side of Ron, glaring at Malfoy, his green eyes filled with suspicion.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione, looking to the old Headmaster. "Is Godric Gryffindor related to the Malfoy's?"  
  
Dumbledore waved away the comment as they began walking up a spiraling staircase, leading to the teachers' offices. "Now is not the time, I fear, Ms. Granger."  
  
"May I come with you, Headmaster?" asked Draco sweetly, blinking his sinister looking eyes.  
  
Ron already began smirking for what was no doubt going to be a put down by the Headmaster.  
  
"Very well, Mr. Malfoy," he said shortly as he arrived by the gargoyle outside of his office. He put his hand onto the statues snout. "Chocolate Frog," he said, with his withered voice.  
  
Ron's face fell into a dour pout. "Headmaster, I don't think I will feel at ease if Malfoy is in the same room when I tell you what happened, it might tense me up."  
  
"You can manage, Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore straightly.  
  
"Oh, do I make you tense, Weasley?" snickered Draco, his face drawn with ennui. "You just don't know me very well. Underneath the hard exterior, I really am a sentimental kind of guy." Draco's face brightened into a malicious leer.  
  
"You are as sentimental as a snake before a meal," muttered Ron, as they entered Dumbledore's office.  
  
"Oh, come on Weasley, sing Kumbiya with me," Draco trailed off for a moment, and then slapped his forehead. "Oh, sorry. I forgot you only sing that at home because you can't afford a radio."  
  
"That will do, Mr. Malfoy," said Dumbledore casually as Ron blew up like a cherry, his anger nearly overriding his better judgment. Dumbledore moved to the other side of his desk while Fawkes hopped onto his lap. The phoenix, instead of possessing splendorous feathers, looked like a shriveled featherless baby chicken; hardly the spectacular bird he had seen when Harry and him had dragged Redetyor in a few months before.  
  
Amazingly, as if they had always been there, four cushioned seats were positioned around the front side of Dumbledore's desk instead of what Ron remembered to be two. With a kind gesture of his wrinkled hands, Dumbledore bid them all to sit down. Ron, Sean and Hermione all sat down while Draco seemed to refuse the invitation, instead, resting his hands upon the back of the fourth chair and leaning over it slyly.  
  
"Mr. Weasley, if you could," asked Dumbledore, paying no heed to Draco's refusal to sit. "Please take it from the beginning."  
  
And so Ron began to tell Dumbledore everything that had transpired from the point where Harry and Ron had entered Professor Trelawney's classroom and when she went crazy. Even Malfoy didn't have a quick and clever response as Ron concluded his story with him helping a barely conscious Harry to the hospital wing.  
  
"I've already sent Minerva to retrieve the injured Professor," said Dumbledore quietly. "Harry told me about the predictions he had received from the dear woman two years before. It seems that this one is not much different, though the external effect was much more, dramatic and dangerous."  
  
"Professor," panted Hermione, in a tone that was laced with panic. "Is Godric related to the Malfoy family?"  
  
Dumbledore looked from Hermione to Draco, his eyes twinkling with his consistent look of amusement. He idly smoked the small, featherless bird upon his lap.  
  
"Yes," said Draco coldly. "He is related to my family."  
  
Dumbledore calmly stood up and turned around, facing the Sorting Hat that sat, worn and haggard, upon one of the lower shelves behind the Headmaster's desk. He calmly took hold of it, and walked around his desk, offering it to Malfoy.  
  
"If you are the true Heir of Gryffindor," said Dumbledore warmly. "Then, draw his sword from within."  
  
Malfoy's stretched cheeks tinged pink for a moment as he glared upon the hat in front of him. "You want me to do what?"  
  
Dumbledore smiled kindly. "Within the hat of Gryffindor resides his sword. Claim Gryffindor's weapon and hold it proudly, if you are one of his sons."  
  
Malfoy narrowed his eyes coldly. "What sort of tomfoolery is this?"  
  
"Reach in," repeated Dumbledore. "And take Godric's sword. It is stored within the hat."  
  
With a trepid hand, Malfoy took hold of the Sorting Hat and turned it upside down. He peered within it, arching his brows dubiously.  
  
"I don't see any sword," snapped Malfoy.  
  
"The sword of Gryffindor only appears when a true soul filled with bravery and courage places his hand within. Should you demonstrate the qualities deep down of an Heir of Gryffindor, you will draw forth his blade," explained Dumbledore.  
  
With a long glare at Dumbledore, Malfoy finally placed his hand within the Sorting Hat. Ron, who was watching intently, held his breath, begging to whatever god would listen for Malfoy to draw a blank.  
  
Malfoy bit his lip in frustration as his entire arm slipped into the hat. Ron could not help but notice a bead of sweat running down Malfoy's cheeks. Finally, he withdrew his hand, very much without a sword.  
  
"There is no sword in there!" fired Malfoy angrily at Dumbledore. "You are just doing this because you hate my Father. I bet you either made all that sod up or took the sword out before I came."  
  
Dumbledore, while having more than enough to dock Slytherin Malfoy's weight in points, remained silent, his eyes twinkling with that subtle humor Dumbledore never seemed to be without.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, please hand the hat to Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore kindly.  
  
Ron blinked, turning from Malfoy back to Dumbledore. "Me?" he asked stupidly.  
  
Dumbledore, not being much for sarcasm, simply smiled and nodded. Malfoy tossed the hat at Ron sourly; his face was set into such a terrible pout while Hermione and Sean both watched Ron with interest.  
  
"Draw the sword from within, Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore kindly, as if there was no doubt in his mind that the hat in Ron's hand would produce a sword.  
  
Ron, wasting no time, slipped his arm into the Sorting Hat, and at once, felt a warm, metallic object within his hands. He grasped the object, which fit snuggly around his grip, and pulled. Without any protest, whatever he was pulling came loose and produced itself from out of the hat, causing everyone in the room, save Dumbledore, to gasp.  
  
Within Ron's hand was the most beautiful looking broadsword he had ever seen. In truth, he had only ever seen one, but the idea was still sound within his head. The jeweled hilt of the sword consisted of two parts, a comfortable metallic hilt, which sat in his hands perfectly, and an ornately carved iron slip, which extended off of the hilt, covering his knuckles and hands. The blade itself was three feet long and crafted of a silvery white metal that reflected in the blues of Ron's eyes magnificently. Ron calmly turned the blade around in his grip, feeling an immense awe and a rush of excitement. Flipping the blade over, Ron clearly saw the words Godric Gryffindor carved upon the bottom of the hilt, in shimmering gold script.  
  
"Wicked," exhaled Ron. For a split moment, he felt like that eleven- year-old student who, once again, was boarding the Hogwarts Express for the very first time.  
  
Dumbledore looked calmly to Draco Malfoy, whose scowl was so foreboding that it seemed to reek with malice. "Sorry Mr. Malfoy. It appears that you are not the Heir after all. You may leave now."  
  
Sean and Hermione both smiled brightly at Malfoy, who violently shoved the chair he was leaning on, and stormed out the door.  
  
Ron barely even notice as he stared with such respect at the blade within his hands. It was like he was reliving a childhood fantasy of pulling out the Sword from the Stone.  
  
Dumbledore's disappointed tone, however, was enough to break Ron from his moment, however.  
  
"I am sorry to say that my own suspicions about House Narhassa have proven to be accurate," he said calmly. "My instruction of the Fantastic Phenomena class that Sean takes was no accident. I have been trying to search for hope within the Student body of that House, however, it seems the effect of Narhassa already has too strong a grasp upon them."  
  
"What do you mean, sir?" asked Sean, looking innocently at Dumbledore.  
  
Dumbledore calmly sighed and sat back in his chair. "From what I have learned from many sources including Harry's godfather Sirius Black as well as reports from Professor Lupin, the Wizards of Narhassa plan to reconvene on top of Ben Nevis. Until now, I did not know of the date."  
  
Hermione leaned forward intently. "You know now, Professor?"  
  
"The Night of Slytherin," said Dumbledore calmly, repeating part of the incantation Ron had remembered from Professor Trelawney's prediction. "Slytherin acted on the first night of the old Christian Winter, which was always set as the first night of December."  
  
"December 1st," said Sean wearily, his eyes wide. "So, that's when everything is going to hit the fan!"  
  
Dumbledore cocked his head curiously. "Is that an American expression?"  
  
Sean shrugged meekly. "Maybe it's just a Muggle one,"  
  
"Yes," says Dumbledore. "That is when it all is going to happen. However, instead of closing down the school, I believe it will be most prudent to find out exactly what they plan to do, and stop them. Should I close the school early, it will just put all their lives at risk from Voldemort."  
  
Sean pouted on one side of his mouth, lowering his head. "Professor, can I ask you one thing?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Of course, Mr. Camaradi."  
  
"Why, was I sorted into Gryffindor?" asked Sean shyly. "I know that's a bit off the topic, but, why am I not with Narhassa?"  
  
"You think there was a mistake?" asked Dumbledore softly.  
  
Ron and Hermione looked over to Sean, who violently shook his head. "No sir, of course not, but, why were only three sorted into the real houses of Hogwarts?"  
  
Dumbledore shrugged. "You are asking the wrong sentient being that question," The old headmaster pointed a thin finger at Ron, who still held Godric's sword in one hand and the Sorting Hat in the other. "Try the hat on again, ask it why Gryffindor was the right house for you. I know it gets so very lonely. I do my best to wear it every so often and have a conversation with it, but it doesn't get to speak to students often at all outside the Sorting Ceremony."  
  
Ron extended the Sorting Hat to Sean, who graciously accepted. Once again, he covered his entire head with the hat as he had done once before. With a slight shift in its texture, the hat formed a mouth and eyes as it did before at each Sorting Ceremony. Yet, instead of a rhythmic song flowing out, they were simply words  
  
"Ah, I've seen into this mind before. Tell me, why have you put me on again?"  
  
To Ron and Hermione's amazements, both could hear the hat as clearly as if it was on their own heads.  
  
"Why was I sorted into Gryffindor and not Narhassa?" asked Sean's muffled voice from beneath the brim of the hat.  
  
The hat blinked its dark indentations, that clearly appeared to be eyes, and hummed loudly.  
  
"A fair question, young Camaradi. When first put me on you did, what did you wish?"  
  
Sean kicked his legs calmly from underneath the chair, and his muffled voice sounded again. "I wanted to be in Gryffindor, with Hermione."  
  
"Precisely," echoed the hat, again out loud. "I seem to remember thinking perhaps Hufflepuff would be the better house for you, but since you wanted Gryffindor so badly and demonstrated a soul with ample bravery, I decided to let you have it. It took me a few minutes to place you, young Camaradi, but I did it."  
  
"But, sir, or hat," said Sean, fumbling over his words. "Why not Narhassa?"  
  
The hat's mouth moved up and down rapidly and a hoarse laugh sounded within Ron's ears.  
  
"There were only two criteria in which I would sort one into House Narhassa. One, they were formerly Muggles, and two, they came to the school specifically with intent of developing their new powers." decreed the hat.  
  
The room was silent for a moment before the hat continued. Ron guessed that Sean had asked a question in his head and the hat was answering.  
  
"No, young Camaradi, when I searched your head before, and as I search it now, I find not a shred of desire to develop your Narhassa given powers. I see only one desire in your mind, and it is neither greed nor power-driven. Out of all the Muggles who tried me on, only two had no desire to develop their Narhassa given powers within the walls of Hogwarts."  
  
"Only two?" asked Ron out loud. "But three Narhassa wizards were sorted into Houses!"  
  
The hat hummed in consideration. "No," it replied. "There were only two."  
  
"Sorting Hat," began Hermione professionally. "Which two were those?"  
  
"Mr. Camaradi, beneath my brim, and a confused, foreboding chap by the name of Seth Redetyor. I could not forget that poor boy's mind; filled with so much pain and suffering, yet starving for power in such a way that House Slytherin was the only house that could do him justice. Narhassa was not appropriate for him, as he seemed to care less about developing his power, it was almost like he was simply expecting it to develop by itself."  
  
"But," asked Sean's muffled voice. "What about the fifth year girl you sorted into Hufflepuff?"  
  
The hat hummed against in consideration, as Dumbledore scratched his beard.  
  
"Yes, I do recall such a girl, she was one of the hardest to place that I've ever encountered. So much older than I am used to, yet such varied traits; she was extremely loyal and hard working on one hand, yet so cold in her soul and blatantly sadistic that I was nervous about sorting her into Hufflepuff. Such combinations of traits seemed almost impossible. For the first time, as far back as I can remember, I was torn between sorting someone into Hufflepuff or Slytherin! In the end, however, the qualities of loyalty and duty seemed overly dominant."  
  
This hit Ron like a sledge hammer in the temple. Hermione's jaw also was dropped as well, in a mixture of shock and disbelief. Yet, it was Sean, from beneath the hat that spoke first. For some reason, he seemed not the slightest bit surprised.  
  
"But, why not Narhassa?" asked Sean.  
  
The Sorting Hat paused for a moment, on top of Sean's head, blinking its rough, patchy eyes.  
  
"Because that girl was not a Narhassa Wizard, she was a real one; she was never a Muggle."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Well, as this story is not really outlined before hand, I've decided to change the order in which a few things would be revealed... as I had a better idea, grin. Looks like now Draco is no longer the odds on favor of being the Heir of Gryffindor but, if it isn't him, who is it? And why did Draco lie about it? It seems our suspicions about Jessica have been proven at last with an unexpected twist, a real wizard all along? But how?  
  
The next chapter will be another Chapter 11, very pivotal and long, so it might take a few extra days to get up. The rough plan is: More to this conversation with Dumbledore is to be had, revealing one final detail. We have a possible insight as to why Draco lied about being the Heir of Gryffindor. Harry recovers from his injuries. Hermione shares a discovery with the rest of the group that may prove quite vital as December 1st approaches, and Harry has one final conversation/show down with Redetyor to talk. Stay Tuned! 


	18. The Calm Before the Storm

A/N: Would just like to thank all those who reviewed this story on Schnoogle, at FictionAlley.com! You guys inspired me to keep writing and posting my work. I hope you all like this story here as well! Please read and review, it's how I get my kicks after work. If you hate the story or are bored with it, please tell me why. While I love good reviews, I only learn from bad ones.  
  
Chapter 18: The Calm Before the Storm  
  
"Because that girl was not a Narhassa Wizard, she was a real one; she was never a Muggle."  
  
"Jessica is a real witch?" exclaimed Ron, his eyes bulging wide.  
  
Sean calmly removed the Sorting Hat from his head and looked at Ron squarely.  
  
"I told Harry," said Sean with a sigh. "But, I think he is quite smitten with her."  
  
Ron wrinkled his brow, staring at Sean stupidly. "Your overwhelming grasp of the obvious astounds me."  
  
Hermione nodded, ignoring Ron, while Dumbledore remained respectfully silent. "We will have to tell him together," decreed the girl.  
  
The smaller red-haired boy looked at Dumbledore, his green eyes glittering with concern. He was caught up in a very strong moral dilemma. Should he tell Dumbledore about Harry's dream?  
  
No, Sean decided at last. It is not my place to tell anyone about Harry's dreams.  
  
Ron and Hermione did not seem to be in any rush to tell Dumbledore about Harry's dream either, though he was not sure as to the extent their knowledge expounded upon the subject  
  
"Headmaster," began Ron, with a shy tone. "In a little more than two weeks, Seth Redetyor is going to do something that will steal nearly one hundred souls, resurrect someone straight from Hell and kill either myself or Harry. Forgive me for being a bit squeamish, but this sort of thing makes me a trite bit nervous."  
  
Dumbledore sighed and sat back in his chair. "There are many ideas that the faculty and I will throw around before time runs out. However, I can promise you that everything will be done to insure your safety, as well as the safety of the rest of the student body. Hopefully, I will be able to talk some sense into the Narhassa wizards during the class I teach, but I suspect a greater power motivates them to seek out the legacy of Salazar Slytherin, the powers of the fallen angel of Narhassa himself."  
  
Hermione nodded slowly, her lip bit with concern. "So, there is nothing to do but wait?"  
  
Dumbledore, for the first time, seemed to possess a tired quality about his face, as if this sort of talk served to drain his vitality.  
  
"I have no plan to expel the children of Narhassa," answered Dumbledore wearily, "especially now that they are known by much of the Wizarding World. I suspect Voldemort has his eyes on the power of Narhassa, as Salazar did. If the Sorolith falls back into his hands, I fear he will be quick to use it to claim the powers of Narhassa, now that Redetyor has paved the way for him with his own research and devotion to the mythical fallen angel."  
  
Dumbledore sighed.  
  
"It was a shame that the Sorolith fell out of Deatheater hands in the first place, for had it remained, he would have never learned of Narhassa, it was Redetyor's driving ambition that turned Voldemort onto the legendary power."  
  
Sean shifted nervously in his seat, feeling as though he was betraying the kindly old man by not disclosing the information he had. Sean tensed up as the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He turned coyly to his left to meet Ron's stony gaze, which had fallen upon him. It was amazing to Sean that Ron's eyes had such weight. Sean visibly shuttered, for he knew Ron was seeing through him like glass.  
  
"Professor," began Sean, with a trembling lip. "I, know Seth Redetyor's exact plan."  
  
Ron and Hermione both turned their heads to Sean, while Dumbledore's expression did not change.  
  
"Yes, I know you do, Mr. Camaradi," he said softly.  
  
Sean cocked his head in confusion. "Harry told you?"  
  
Dumbledore sat back, a twinkle returning to his eyes. "The way Voldemort made his presence in Hogwarts that night was through two very powerful Clairvoyance/Clairaudience Divination Charms. While very cunning magic, it is also very detectable. I knew at once where and what Voldemort was snooping at, and used a little charm myself to watch as well."  
  
"So you know about the open rebellion of the younger Narhassians?" asked Sean.  
  
Dumbledore nodded firmly. "Yes, I do, Mr. Camaradi, it will not happen."  
  
Sean fell silent, while Dumbledore continued.  
  
"Seth Redetyor has planned this attack for well over a half a year and has a very cunning understanding of the link between him and Voldemort through years of study. I assure you, while he was bedridden, he sifted through every tome he could get his hands on."  
  
Dumbledore paused for a moment and stroked Fawkes' featherless head.  
  
"It is probably how he came to an understanding of what Narhassa was, and how it could help him free himself of the bond between him and Voldemort. I put my galleons on the fact that Redetyor allowed Voldemort and Harry to know where he was meeting his fellow wizards that night."  
  
Dumbledore now had the undivided attention of the three Gryffindors. The old Headmaster looked to Ron.  
  
"It makes sense," added Hermione, her eyes twinkling with understanding. "After all, Seth is who Voldemort was, and is who Tom Marvolo Riddle was. Seth has his cunning, his ruthlessness and his ability to rally others to support him."  
  
Ron smiled too, as everything began to pan out in front of him clearly. "And, Seth has a huge advantage!" exclaimed Ron. "Voldemort sees him as some dumb clone and underestimates him!"  
  
"Right you are," nodded Dumbledore, a small smile forming at the corners of his mouth.  
  
Ron's smile fell, however, as a sour thought crossed his mind. "When we brought Seth before you, though, why did you ignore us then?"  
  
Dumbledore chuckled, a mischievous glow illuminating his face kindly.  
  
"I believed every word of what you told me, and hit the books for the entire weekend, looking up the strengths and weakness of simulacrums. The reason I played possum was because I did not want you and Harry involved," The old man trailed off and scratched his long white beard. "Apparently, that was where I underestimated you."  
  
Sean and Hermione chuckled as well, however, Ron's face seemed to intensify.  
  
"With all due respect, Headmaster," began Ron, his tone quite serious. "I would preferred to be leveled with when Harry's life is in danger, not "possumed" off."  
  
The fair Headmaster's face fell, but no angry words were forthcoming. "Your friendship with Harry Potter has forced you and Hermione to grow up faster than I would have cared to see. You have each been in mortal danger every year you have been a student here, and for this, I can only apologize."  
  
Ron's severe expression fell as he swallowed a lump in his throat. It was clear to Sean that Ron believed that he overstepped his boundary there.  
  
"Can you please just tell us what to be prepared for?" asked Hermione, with a discouraged sigh.  
  
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I will no longer possum you off, then."  
  
The Headmaster sighed and stood up from his desk, setting Fawkes upon the ground as he made his way over to Sean's side. The small looking boy gazed upon Dumbledore, taking a nervous gulp of air. Ron and Hermione watched with mixed feelings.  
  
"I firmly believe that Narhassa has their eyes upon Sean, and will try to steal his soul using the Sorolith. I am not using the dream as an example, but rather, their reaction to you in my class. Not withstanding what we saw in the dream, they see you as a loose end, and, I suspect, will try to slay you."  
  
Sean felt as though a horde of spiders were crawling around on his back as he trembled with a sudden wave of fear.  
  
"As a result," continued Dumbledore. "Sean, I am very sorry, but I must send you home to America. It is not safe for you in Hogwarts anymore."  
  
"What!" exclaimed Sean, his mouth dropping agape. He felt as though the entire world was crushing down upon him. "To hell with that crap! No way I'm leaving!"  
  
Dumbledore raised his hands into the air. "I can protect you, Sean, but, not even I am willing to chance someone's soul, in case of failure. Despite what Wizard Weekly says, I am only human."  
  
"Chance it!" snapped Sean, standing up from his chair. Despite the action, he still had to look up to see Dumbledore in the eyes as a result of his diminutive height. "I'm not abandoning my friends!"  
  
"Sean," said Hermione, standing up as well. "I agree with the Headmaster, I care for you too much to see such a risk put on you."  
  
Ron remained silent, content to be the only person not standing. It was clear he had his own thoughts about Sean leaving.  
  
Sean felt as though he had been slapped in the face. He stared at Hermione with wide, green eyes. "I'm not leaving you in such danger. I'm staying!"  
  
Dumbledore sighed deeply, scratching his snowy white beard. "Absolutely not," said the old man. "Your soul is not to be chanced for anything. The denial of an afterlife; the absolute and indefinite end is not something to face. The brave give their lives; the foolish give their souls."  
  
"It doesn't matter!" retorted Sean, his eyes glazing over with worry. "I'm staying! I know the risks!"  
  
And, for the first time Ron had ever seen, Dumbledore's face slumped with ultimate defeat. Sean's face was contorted with defiance and his stance, while undermined by his height, was of rigid tension. Dumbledore turned around, as if unable to face Sean. The words rolled off Dumbledore's tongue like tar, as if he fought a tremendous battle of nerves to get them out.  
  
"Then, Sean, you are expelled, You have three hours to say goodbye to everyone. Hagrid will then escort you to Hogsmeade Station, where the Hogwarts Express will take you to King's Cross. From there, you will be given enough Muggle money to buy a plane ticket home."  
  
Dumbledore sat down behind his desk, his head in his hands.  
  
"That is all. I know you do not approve, but this is for your own good," he said sorrowfully. "Ron and Hermione, I will keep you contacted. Please help Mr. Camaradi gather his things."  
  
Sean glared at Dumbledore, his face alight with anger.  
  
"Thanks, thanks for nothing!" he stammered, as he turned about, rushing out of the office and slamming the door behind him.  
  
Ron and Hermione looked to Dumbledore. They, then, looked to each other without a spoken word.  
  
"You two better leave," said Dumbledore, in a meek voice.  
  
Ron nodded slowly.  
  
"Yes, Headmaster," replied Hermione, and both Gryffindors turned to go.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Voldemort cackled as he ran his spidery, bony fingers along the scales of his serpent, Nagini, stirring the serpent slightly.  
  
"Master," said a voice that Harry recognized immediately as the mature, drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy. "The dementors are ready and await your command."  
  
The room they were within was extremely dark, in respects to both light and furnishings. Voldemort was perched cunningly upon a silvery velvet chair, the sort Harry might expect to find in the Gryffindor Common room. Upon the bony man's lap rested the head of a twenty-foot serpent, which wound around Voldemort's chair in a protective coil. The walls of the hall seemed to be covered with black bound books and shelves littered with what appeared to be potions and bones. Upon the floor of the room were three interlacing serpents that wound at two points, forming a green letter "M". The ceiling was lost in the gloom of the extremely large hall. The only light that feebly attempted to pierce the gloom was from two twin braziers, flaming with green fire near the walls of the room.  
  
This must be a hall in Malfoy Manor, thought Harry, piecing together Lucius Malfoy's presence and the M upon the ground.  
  
"You have done well, Lucius," rasped Voldemort, tickling the top of Nagini's head. "It was not easy, I trust."  
  
The blonde-haired man was dressed in a black robe of a Deatheater, with his cowl off his head and flowing down his back. He stood before the sitting Voldemort, his arms folded simply.  
  
"No, My Lord," he said. "It cost a significant bribe to bring them over from Iraq, Sadam Hussein was not very keen on letting go of some of his most prized assets."  
  
Voldemort cackled, his bloody red eyes glowing and swirling hypnotically. "How did you get them into England?"  
  
Lucius' gray eyes narrowed and a smirk crossed his face. "That was the easy part. The Head of the Department of International Magic Cooperation owed me a favor. I assure you, he was quick to provide fake documentation for the dementors and give my men permits and transports."  
  
"Very good," cooed Voldemort. "And this head is trustworthy?"  
  
Lucius crossed his arms. "I hand picked him myself, Master. With my support, he was quick to take office after the late Mr. Crouch. He knew the price I would charge for such a promotion, and he repaid it quite handsomely."  
  
Voldemort hummed in consideration. "Seems like this one has the makings of a Deatheater. We could use him in the future."  
  
Lucius shrugged sluggishly. "Perhaps, Master, though, I had to distort the truth a bit by telling him that they were new additions to Azkaban. I trust he will need to wade further into the seedy underground of the Ministry before he takes the vows." Lucius narrowed his eyes a bit. "He is of, questionable family origin, my lord."  
  
"Back on topic," said Voldemort, waving the digression away. "Wormtail will be returning shortly from his little trip to Ben Nevis. Seth is a willful boy, but ever so pathetic. I know his entire plan, and we will be waiting for him on the peak; waiting for him to guide us right into the Temple of Narhassa."  
  
"Then," stated Lucius sharply, "we will retrieve the Sorolith that that idiot Spencer stole from me and kill his daughter for the inconvenience."  
  
Voldemort laughed wickedly as Nagini lifted its head and flicked its tongue at Lucius.  
  
"That and more, Lucius, that and more. Now, tell me about your son. Has he secured the sw,"  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
The scene suddenly swam out of focus as Harry felt someone touching his body. A groan escaped from his lips as Voldemort's voice faded into his memory and a new, sweet voice replaced it.  
  
"Harry, wake up,"  
  
Harry's eyes fluttered open, at first completely out of focus. Above him, he made out an indistinguishable blob of colors that served as a possible mosaic for a human face. Blinking slowly, he realized that he was without his glasses.  
  
"Where am I?" asked Harry meekly, reaching out and groping at his left side for what he hoped were his glasses.  
  
The blur of color above him must have retrieved them, for the next moment, Jessica replaced that blur as she slipped his very own black rims over his eyes.  
  
"Thanks," he said, smiling at her.  
  
Jessica leaned forward and pecked his lips softly.  
  
"Are you ok?" she asked, her face still so close to his that he felt her warm breath upon his nose.  
  
Harry shrugged under the weight of a thin hospital robe. "I think so, considering I became a human porcupine during my fortune telling session, in which I was promised death, a rebirth from hell and eternal damnation all in one sitting."  
  
Jessica winced visibly, but smiled nonetheless. "Seems like you had a rough Divination class."  
  
Harry weakly touched her face with his hand affectionately. "When does something go my way?"  
  
Jessica giggled, and planted the tip of her finger on Harry's nose playfully. "Aw, you want to be spoiled?"  
  
Harry smirked, as the tone of her voice washed over him. "Yes, momma."  
  
With a quick kiss to his forehead, Jessica stood back up. "When you get better, I'll let you have your way, for once."  
  
"Is that a promise?" asked Harry.  
  
Jessica's face gleamed with sweet mischief as she took her leave. "Get better, ok?"  
  
Harry sighed woefully and slipped back down into his pillows, a bright smile upon his face.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Sean, please wait," begged Hermione as the smaller red haired boy kicked open the fifth year boy's dorm, in a rage. Behind the two, Ron followed slowly, apparently not having the words.  
  
Sean stormed into the room, nearly shoving over Seamus Finnigan, who was busy polishing his Nimbus 2000. Before the Irish boy could speak, however, Sean looked back to Hermione.  
  
"You didn't even try to get the old man to reconsider," snapped Sean, his eyes betraying a feeling of complete pain as he grabbed his suitcase from under his bed and slammed it onto the mattress.  
  
Hermione put her hand to her hips. "And what was I supposed to say?" she scoffed. "No, Headmaster, I don't care if Sean looses his soul. In fact, lets let him stay in the Gryffindor Common Room as bait!"  
  
Ron simply shook his head while Sean ripped out the top drawer from his dresser and began throwing his clothing into the suitcase on his bed.  
  
"You just don't trust me and that's it," muttered Sean coyly as the second dresser drawer was ripped from its place and the contents emptied. "He is a Muggle, so, he's gotta be a spy for Redetyor."  
  
Hermione's jaw dropped. "That is completely wrong!"  
  
Seamus arched his brow and looked to Ron, who rolled his eyes on cue. There was something gnawing deeply at Ron, and despite his attempts to ignore it, he could not. Could it be that he, empathized with Sean? He, too, knew what it was like to be unable to help his friends, despite his best effort.  
  
He stole Hermione from you, he stole your broom from you, he stole your place on the Gryffindor Quiddich Team, think evil thoughts, think evil thoughts.  
  
Despite Ron's best efforts, in light of the circumstances, he could not bring himself to do anything but feel sorry for Sean.  
  
"Sean," said the other red-haired boy. "We trust you."  
  
The final drawer was pulled out, but it was clear that Sean's fury was not played out. He slammed the suitcase shut and rounded on Ron.  
  
"You have a funny way of showing it, Weasley. You're the damn problem, Sean, Maybe you are evil just like the Narhassa wizards, Sean, Maybe I'm a jealous dickhead, Sean!"  
  
Every Weasley instinct within his body told Ron that this was the part where he was supposed to punch the smaller boy's lights out, kick him while he was on the ground and repay him for all the heartache his presence had cost him. Yet, something within his soul kept his fists at his side, loosened and far from Sean's face.  
  
"You are right, Sean," said Ron, the words flying out of his mouth unexpectedly. "I was wrong."  
  
"Yeah, blow me, Weasl," However, before Sean could finish his sentence, he blinked with sheer stupefaction.  
  
"Huh?" asked every person in the room, including Seamus, who wore a traumatized expression upon his face.  
  
Ron sighed and looked down at his shoes. "I was wrong."  
  
"That's it," said Seamus, standing up before Sean could answer. "Reality has just been turned upside down, I need Prozac!"  
  
With that, Seamus left the room, his right arm beginning a twitch.  
  
Sean ignored Seamus, staring at Ron. "I didn't think you were capable of ever admitting you were wrong."  
  
Hermione's eyes turned to the door as Seamus shut it behind him. "You are not the only one."  
  
Ron frowned and took his eyes of his shoes, looking down at the shorter boy. "That makes three of us, I think."  
  
He looked to Hermione, who nodded slowly, her brows still arched. "You are damn right it does."  
  
"And, for what its worth, Sean," continued Ron. "I'm sorry, again."  
  
Ron was amazed how easily the words flowed off his tongue now that he was harboring no more secrets. There was nothing left for him to defend. Hermione had told Parvati about their little exchange in the common room, and thus, everyone in the school was likely to find out within the next few days.  
  
And, for once, he no longer harbored much resentment for Sean, though Ron hated to speculate that might be because he was leaving.  
  
Sean swallowed a lump in his throat and zipped up his suitcase. "It's a bit late for that, Ron," said Sean coldly, yet without malice, just defeat. "Look, do me a favor, ok?"  
  
Ron nodded slowly. "Alright. What?"  
  
Sean withdrew Fred and George's old broom from beneath his bed. "Take my spot as Chaser," he said evenly as he tossed the broom to Ron, who caught it with a stunned expression. "You want to be on that team more than anything."  
  
Ron looked down at the old Cleansweep with a surprised expression. While it wasn't even close to a top of the line broom, it was now his and it was sufficient to play with. A joy crept into his soul that he couldn't keep down.  
  
"Thanks, Sean," said Ron sadly.  
  
Sean pulled his suitcase off of his bed. "I'm going to visit Harry before shipping out," he said, his anger hidden from his voice. "I owe him a good- bye at least for being my friend from the beginning."  
  
Hermione nodded weakly, her eyes were wrung with moisture.  
  
To Ron's own surprise, he extended his hand to Sean.  
  
Sean grasped it hesitantly in a firm shake.  
  
"Have a good life," said Ron stonily, though his blue eyes seemed to show as much compassion as he ever showed.  
  
"I'll owl you all the time," said Hermione weakly.  
  
Sean looked back over his shoulder as he walked toward the door. "No," he said softly. "Let this be our good-bye."  
  
Upon seeing Hermione's hurt look, Sean sighed. "I love you, and always will, but I need to get on with my life."  
  
"What are you saying?" asked Hermione, seeming very shocked and surprised.  
  
Sean shrugged weakly. "I'm a Muggle who lives in California, and you are a Wizard who lives in England. It will be simply too hard to keep our relationship going." Sean frowned with one side of his mouth, lowering his green eyes in sorrow. "I cannot be your friend if I cannot have you, hold you and kiss you, It will be torture for me to read your messages. Please, don't write any."  
  
Hermione swallowed hard, the crease in her neck rippling with emotion. "I can respect that."  
  
"So," said Sean, burying his feelings deep down. "I guess this is good- bye."  
  
Unable to bare such a cold good-bye, Hermione rushed over to Sean and embraced him tightly. Sean desperately hugged Hermione as well, knowing that this was likely the last time he would ever see her.  
  
Ron shyly looked away as Sean pressed his mouth against Hermione's for one last kiss. As much as Ron realized he was a jealous pillock, he still could not help being one as his face burned scarlet.  
  
And, as soon as it happened, it was over, with Sean breaking away and walking out the door without another word. As the door closed behind him, Hermione looked over to Ron, who looked back at her with a worn and weary expression.  
  
Ron moved over to her slowly and hugged her gently. She put her arms around him and broke down crying upon his shoulder.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Before finding Harry, however, Sean knew there was something that he had to do. He made his way down to the Great Hall hoping for a lucky break; it was about time for something to go his way.  
  
And indeed, luck was upon his side. Looking over at the Narhassa table, Sean saw the tall form of Alex, eating lunch with two other American Narhassa wizards. With a nervous swallow, Sean approached the Narhassa table, drawing many suspicious eyes.  
  
"Well, look who's here," said Alex nastily, staring up at Sean with hatred as he closed the rest of the distance and stood on the opposite side of the table. "You got a lot of guts coming over here, Sean, after selling us out to your friend Potter."  
  
"It's over, Alex," said Sean boldly, staring at his cousin and formerly best friend. "I'm going home."  
  
Alex snorted, drawing laughs from the other two Muggles. Yet, upon seeing the serious look on Alex's face, his arrogant expression faltered.  
  
"Going home?" asked Alex.  
  
"I, I want you to come home with me," said Sean shortly and straightforwardly. "Forget whatever you are going to do, and just walk away from it."  
  
Alex looked to the two other Narhassa wizards for a moment, who both shrugged. He looked back to Sean and stood up to his full, impressive height. He briskly made his way around the table, beckoning Sean to follow him.  
  
Sean followed him out of the Great Hall and down an obscure corridor of the main hallway of Hogwarts. After two minutes of passing by drab looking stone walls, they descended a flight of stairs, leading down to the dungeons.  
  
"It's not too late, Alex," said Sean dryly. "Just, forget about this Narhassa crap, we are family."  
  
Alex glared at Sean as he finally stopped in the middle of a dark passageway, lit only by low burning torches. The smell of dank moisture was in the air as a frigid draft blew over the two boys like the chill of death. Sean could hear the sounds of water dropping all around him.  
  
"So, you are running away?" asked Alex snidely, his voice echoing off the walls of the dungeon.  
  
Sean stared at Alex. "I've been expelled."  
  
Alex blinked, his cold glare being replaced by confusion. "What?" demanded Alex.  
  
Sean lowered his head, and told Alex about his meeting with Dumbledore. Alex listened pensively, a sympathetic look upon his face. For the first time in months, Alex looked like his first cousin and best friend, not his enemy.  
  
"Sean, listen to me," said Alex, for the first time Sean could remember, sounding sincere. "It isn't too late for you, either. Come with me; we will speak to Redetyor, just tell him what the Gryffindors are planning, and he will accept you back. We can arrange it so you can hide away in a dorm room in Narhassa until the day we act."  
  
Sean looked up to Alex, his green eyes searching for hope within Alex's pointed countenance. Despite his relatively passive stare, his dark brows seemed irrevocably narrowed, as if evil had a hold on him and refused to let him go.  
  
"Remember, when we were nine, and we were caught dropping a cherry bomb into the school toilets?" asked Sean, digging his toe into the moist, stony floor.  
  
Alex blinked for a moment, taken a bit off guard. "How could I forget? The principle had you in the office, but you played mute with him; granted it wasn't very hard for you to do that since you were mute, after all."  
  
Sean smiled a bit. "They found another one in my locker and suspended me for two weeks. I didn't tell them you were with me; I don't betray people, period."  
  
A tense silence lapsed between the two as Alex surveyed Sean with his deep, hazel eyes.  
  
"Sean, they are not worth it. Do you see them staying by your side to the end?"  
  
Sean looked to Alex. "No, but nor do I see you. The Narhassa classes proved that sure enough."  
  
"I've got responsibilities, Sean," snapped Alex passionately. "Something huge is about to happen to the world, and I get to be a part of it. Do you have any idea how that feels?"  
  
Sean nodded slowly, his thoughts drifting back to Hermione. "I used to be a part of something huge, but I've learned good things don't last. What you are feeling now won't last. For God sakes, Alex, to dick with Narhassa and to dick with this place. Let's go home. Screw this wizard crap; let's surf, swim, screw Quiddich, let's play soccer and baseball again."  
  
"I won't do that, Sean," said Alex confrontationally. "I happen to like this 'wizard crap' as you call it. I like having power over people's lives in my hands." Alex then straightened up proudly. "And, besides, I like Quiddich. I'm a pretty damn good Seeker, well, when I'm not cheating, anyway."  
  
Sean stamped his foot. "Damn it, Alex. That isn't you talking."  
  
Alex turned around. "Yes it is, Sean. I am the same guy you knew from infancy. I want you with me, Sean. When we take Ben Nevis and Redetyor opens the way to the Narhassa's Lair, I want you to be at my side to drink deeply from Narhassa's glory."  
  
Sean could feel his resolve beginning to weaken. He could not deny the temptation he found in Alex's words. While all moral upbringing taught him to turn his back on his former best friend, he could not bring himself to do it.  
  
"Do you realize what is going to happen, Alex?" asked Sean, desperately recalling the facts he had heard from Harry, Ron and Hermione. "You've already touched the Sorolith, your soul will be drained; your lifeforce will go into Seth, to make him strong enough to defeat Voldemort."  
  
Alex chuckled, and shook his head. "No, Sean. Redetyor is not going to take our souls, well, not mine anyway. I never touched the Sorolith."  
  
Sean fell silent as Alex curled his lips slyly.  
  
"Redetyor has told a select few of us what has happened recently," said Alex. "Upon attaining the Sorolith from the traitorous Deatheater Garret Spencer, he went back up to Ben Nevis and used it to reopen Narhassa's Lair. You see, from the peak down descends a winding, spiraling staircase leading to the deep underbelly of the mountain. Within there resides Narhassa, trapped within a barrier possessing two locks... sleeping soundly for eight-hundred years."  
  
Sean listened to Alex, his stomach turning over within his chest. Alex's lips spread into a smile.  
  
"Spencer opened one of the locks with the last of the Sorolith's stored power, which removed the spell of perpetual slumber from Narhassa. This awakened the fallen angel. When this happened, all those whose families dated back to the days of Slytherin's cult felt their dormant power ignite."  
  
Sean stared at Alex dumbly.  
  
"We weren't given our powers, Sean," said Alex. "They were just brought from dormancy by the will of the newly awoken Narhassa."  
  
"Go on," said Sean slowly, desiring to hear more of this story.  
  
Alex nodded. "The second lock can only be opened by an Heir to the person who placed the lock in the first place."  
  
"Gryffindor?" asked Sean.  
  
Alex shook his head. "Slytherin."  
  
"Slytherin?" asked Sean, his eyes wide. "But, he was the one who awoke Narhassa in the first place?"  
  
Alex nodded.  
  
"Slytherin, after killing his best friend Godric in a duel to the death, was mortally wounded by Gryffindor's sword. The wound was a mere cut, however, it was bleeding the power of Narhassa from him slowly and gradually. With the icy realization of death, Slytherin was freed of his insanity."  
  
Sean continued to listen, conflicting emotions making it difficult for him to breath.  
  
"Narhassa had attached itself to Slytherin like a parasite and had become inseparable. As a result, Slytherin realized he was slowly dying. With all the strength he could muster, thanks to his returned sanity, he performed Magia Ultimo, the greatest spell a wizard can perform."  
  
Sean nodded slowly, as Alex continued.  
  
"It literally translates into Last Magic, for that is the last spell the casting wizard will ever cast. All of his magical power is channeled into the following spell. The amazingly powerful Slytherin sacrificed all of his power and put it into a Stunning Charm. When the being Narhassa was hit, it fell into a slumber that it could very well never awaken from."  
  
"What happened to Slytherin then?" asked Sean, his body tense in anticipation, though in his mind, he could not help but feel very suspicious of Alex.  
  
"Slytherin was found a week later at the peak of Ben Nevis, having struggled out of Narhassa's lair and closed it behind him. The Sorolith was neglected by those who discovered him, and remained hidden at the peak of Ben Nevis for the better part of eight hundred years."  
  
Sean looked at his cousin, his conflicting emotions finally unable to stand to hear anymore.  
  
"Why are you telling me this, Alex?"  
  
Alex looked at Sean, true concern on his face. With the cousinly affection Sean had once known, Alex rested his hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Because Sean, I want it to be you and me again. I don't want to see you hunted as a traitor, let's awaken Narhassa together, with Redetyor's help."  
  
Sean glared at Alex. "Slytherin died because he foolishly let Narhassa into our world. What makes you so sure that you aren't going to share his fate?"  
  
Alex stared at Sean stupidly, as if the answer were obvious.  
  
"Slytherin foolishly attempted to battle Narhassa in a competition of wills by himself. He was caught up in depression and shame, even long years after the original founders of Hogwarts, and lost to the grinding force of Narhassa. We, the House of Narhassa, have been brought together; we have been rallied by Redetyor. All of us will battle Narhassa together; our will and might combined will dominate Narhassa and allow us to extract its power."  
  
It seemed like sound reasoning to Sean, who sighed and cocked his head, looking at Alex with a tired, beaten expression.  
  
"Join us, Sean," coaxed Alex. "Your will is stronger than mine; perhaps even stronger than Redetyor's. With you at our side, the victory would be that much more insured."  
  
Alex held out his hand to Sean, his eyes alight with enthusiasm.  
  
"We need you, Sean," said Alex, with sincerity. "Please, join us."  
  
Sean stared at the hand, keenly remembering Dumbledore sending him away, for the crime of wanting to help. He remembered all the cruel looks, words and phrases slung at him by Ron and how he, only after Sean proved to be leaving the picture, made up with him. Now, to Sean, it seemed as though Ron had only done this to resolve himself of his own guilt.  
  
Likely, he was already snogging Hermione.  
  
And, he thought of Hermione, who had not even spoken one word on his behalf to keep him close; it seemed as if she wanted to push him away.  
  
For a moment, shaking Alex's hand did not seem like such a bad idea.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Harry watched the door to the hospital wing expectantly,  
  
Several hours had passed since he had seen Jessica, and the sun within the hospital window was descending over the lake in front of the school, turning the water to the color of blood. The short, winter days had shriveled to the mere shadows of summer light as cold wind gusted against the windowpane.  
  
And still, Harry watched and waited,  
  
His eyelids began to feel heavy as the stress of the day began to take its fatiguing toll. With a face as heavy as brick, Harry felt his eyes beginning to close, how he wished to be engulfed by peaceful sleep.  
  
However, sleep was not to be had in the near future, for the sounds of footsteps outside the hospital wing were rising in crescendo, as someone was approaching.  
  
With a blink of his eyes, Harry dispelled his fatigue. The door opened wide with a click and a violent shove, revealing three students, dressed in plain Hogwarts robes. They moved quickly to Harry's side, with long, impressive strides.  
  
One was Seth Redetyor, who opened his mouth to speak.  
  
"You have no idea how warm it made me feel inside to receive your invitation, Potter," said the gray-eyed boy in a low, ominous tone. "I heard about your, unfortunate mishap."  
  
Harry propped himself up on his elbows, allowing him to sit straight up in bed.  
  
"We need to talk, Redetyor," said Harry, "without your cronies."  
  
Redetyor's lip curled with amusement. "Malakai, Dustin, meet me outside," he said frankly.  
  
The two Narhassa students nodded slowly, and left the room obediently, shutting the door behind them.  
  
Seth smirked and folded his arms behind his back, looking down upon Harry. "You know, my friend, you are coming dangerously close to interfering, it would be a shame to turn your soul into a dementor's breakfast, mmm?"  
  
"You are better than that, aren't you?" retorted Harry, staring at Redetyor with knowing, intense green eyes.  
  
"Ha!" snapped Redetyor bitterly, looking down at Harry. "Calling my bluff then, so to speak?"  
  
Harry slowly shook his head gravely. "No. I called you up here to tell you that awakening Narhassa will result in massive failure, and you will die in the process should you try."  
  
Seth snickered, sitting slyly at the foot of Harry's bed. "Well, sucks to be me, huh?"  
  
The bedridden boy remained silent.  
  
"Very well," said Seth, waving his hand disdainfully. "Thrill me with your aptitude on this subject."  
  
Harry stared coldly at Seth. "Voldemort knows your plan."  
  
Seth's face immediately intensified, and his lip began quivering. "He, he does?"  
  
"Did I stutter?" retorted Harry.  
  
Seth put a hand to his mouth, his eyes bulging widely. "Oh, jumping Jimmy Cricket, whatever am I going to do? The big bad wolf knows my little old plan?"  
  
"I'm picking up your sarcasm," replied Harry shortly.  
  
"That's cheery, because I'm drowning you in it," snapped Seth, his hand dropping from his mouth and his feigned nervous expression washing itself off his face like a passing wave. "Voldemort is of no concern to me, or my followers."  
  
"Spoken like a true Muggle," sneered Harry, his expression still quite fierce. "Do you realize that, even now, Voldemort is planning his attack upon you at Ben Nevis, on December 1st."  
  
Seth's eyes widened again, and looked side to side frantically. "Well, gee whiz. Isn't he just the little boy scout?"  
  
Harry could not help but feel hopelessly disarmed in this conversation. He expected his words to hold much more weight with Redetyor than he was showing. It was his modest hope that he could talk some sense into the revenge crazy boy.  
  
"Fine," said Harry, despairingly. "Say you are right and you kill off Voldemort with ease. What is going to stop you from losing yourself to Narhassa, as Slytherin did?"  
  
Seth raised a brow. "It's called a brain, Slytherin should have tried using it."  
  
"And," snapped Harry, "you are just going to sacrifice your followers to Narhassa, as he did?"  
  
Voldemort's simulacrum stared down at Harry for a long moment. "Mmm, you have done your homework, haven't you, Potter?" he asked with an impressive tone.  
  
Harry's countenance remained stony.  
  
"Yes," said Seth, with a drawn out and fake sounding sigh. "Some will have to go, they've freely volunteered; well, maybe not freely. Gradual suggestion has implanted itself into a few of the descendents of Narhassa, maybe a hundred or so."  
  
"Gradual suggestion?" scowled Harry deeply. "You mean the Imperius Curse,"  
  
Seth laughed deeply, scratching his left arm with his right as he adjusted himself at the foot of Harry's bed.  
  
"What an ugly, ugly thing to call it," cooed Redetyor. "The people I chose were the scum of the Earth, Potter. Their souls don't deserve to move on."  
  
Harry looked deeply at Seth. "How can you pass judgment like that upon your fellow students? Nearly all of them are younger than you, and have only begun to understand who they are!"  
  
"Oh, dear me Potter," said Seth, with a clash of ennui. "I had hoped you had more faith in me than that. Didn't your friend tell you about the dreams? I did not teach just the kids in Hogwarts, but every descendent of Narhassa, tens of thousands, all in one place. Hell, where did you think I was going the night Malfoy decided to stick his pasty little neck into my affairs? I had to visit a few scumbags outside of Hogwarts."  
  
Harry listened for a moment, as any retort was taken forcefully from his mind.  
  
"Oh, worry not, Potter, if you knew the ones I am choosing to sacrifice, you would think I was doing the world a favor."  
  
Yet, Harry was not convinced and his face showed it.  
  
"What about at the Quiddich game, what were you doing there, conducting research on forgetfulness?"  
  
Seth snorted. "Hardly, Potter. Do you even know the three primary functions of a Sorolith?"  
  
"Yes," said Harry crisply. "Simulacrums and Soul Stealing: Completely and Partially."  
  
"Oh, bravo," said Seth, clapping. "I was afraid I'd have to explain that to you as well, I have to admit, the game is much more fun when you are playing it too. You and me, damn, we are so much alike."  
  
"Sod off," muttered Harry. "This is no game and you are nothing like me."  
  
"Anyway," said Seth, smiling evilly. "I took a small portion of the souls of my strongest followers, they will join me in the clash of will that we must undergo before we are able to harness the powers of Narhassa. I made sure to do it several weeks beforehand, so they will be able to make a complete recovery before the big night."  
  
Harry sank into his pillow despairingly. "Well, how noble of you. How much risk art thou drawing upon thyself, oh fair paladin?"  
  
"None," said Redetyor with a laugh. "The plan is fool-proof, and not you, nor Dumbledore, nor Voldemort will be able to stop me." Seth smiled mirthlessly at Harry. "You might as well start calling me Lord Seth, or maybe I will change it to something with more of flair, Lord Soth, Lord Sephiroth, Lord Seipher, any ideas?"  
  
Harry snorted and rubbed his eyes wearily. "Lord Sephiroth, that's a great one. Sounds like the name of some black-caped wannabe dunce driven insane by powers he foolishly tried to harness." Harry opened his eyes again. "That should fit you perfectly."  
  
Seth smirked slightly. "You know Harry, if you weren't trying to be the fly in my ointment, and my would-be assassin, we'd probably have gotten on just fine. We ARE so much alike."  
  
"You are a monster, Redetyor," said Harry coldly. "I don't know whether you deserve to die or be leashed and thrown into a freak show."  
  
Seth pretended he didn't hear him. "We both are quite willful, we both go above and beyond our expectations, we both are Heirs of Slytherin and we both owe that to Voldemort; you through a failed spell, and I through a successful one."  
  
Harry looked away. "But, unlike you, I am not proud to be an Heir of Slytherin."  
  
"Come now, Harry," said Seth, standing up from Harry's bed. "No need to become taciturn. We both want Voldemort dead, I would ally with you to that end, but two Heirs of Slytherin on the same side would get messy." Seth calmly inspected his fingernails. "And, not to mention, I don't really need your help."  
  
"Answer me one thing," said Harry distantly. "Where did you hide the Sorolith at the Quiddich game?"  
  
Seth laughed mirthlessly as he turned to go.  
  
"Let's just say, some of my followers have unquestionable loyalty to me which supercedes some of their own, more intimate relationships. Hmm?"  
  
Before Harry could ask another question, however, Seth beat him to the punch. "Oh yeah, Harry. I would insist that you not interfere lest you wind up in Azkaban, but,oh heck, I don't have the heart to throw you to the dementors, as I'm sure you figured out. I wish you best of luck in trying to stop me."  
  
Harry stared at Redetyor. "I'll remind you of those words December 1st, when I've foiled your plan."  
  
"Fair enough," said Seth snidely, staring at Harry as he opened the door to the Hospital wing. "When I see you on Ben Nevis, no holds will be barred, Potter."  
  
With that, Seth closed the door behind him with a resounding click, leaving Harry alone once again, listening to the sounds of footfalls fading away.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"No, Crabbe," said Draco Malfoy as he sat down next to his trollish, stupid friend. Draco watched Crabbe fumble around again, and a second time, Draco sighed.  
  
"No, moron."  
  
Crabbe looked down at his jumbled shoelaces and grunted.  
  
The Slytherin Common Room had only become that much colder as winter kicked into full gear. A heavy draft was coming from the dungeon walls, though Draco was used to the chill by now.  
  
"Look, how hard is it, you moronic goon?" snapped Malfoy, pointing down at his own shoe. He undid his shoelace and pointed empathically. He began to tie them. "Tuck, duck, run the rabbit around the tree, and into the hole!"  
  
Crabbe scratched his head and mumbled disdainfully, causing Draco's left eye to twitch.  
  
"What are you talking about?" snapped Malfoy. "Of course they aren't going to have a class on how to do this, you'd fail it anyway!"  
  
Crabbe grunted and hit his lap angrily. Draco sighed.  
  
"Look, Crabbe, I'm going to go over there now," said Draco, pointing down the corridor, leading out of the Slytherin Room. Draco looked around the room and quickly spied Pansy Parkinson, sitting at a table with Millicent Bulstrode and Blaise Zabini. "Pansy will help you though. She confessed to me that she wanted you."  
  
Draco quickly ducked out of the Common Room as Crabbe smiled dumbly and rushed across the room. Malfoy smirked to himself as he heard a feminine scream, just before he closed the door to his room.  
  
Within the Slytherin fifth year boys' dorm room, a boy named Cameron Trent looked up at Draco from his bed. The Slytherin dorm room was furnished with dark green carpeting over a stony, hard floor. From above, four lanterns dangled on silver chains, lighting up the room sufficiently. The barren, cavernous walls were covered by similar green wallpaper. Upon the top of the wall, on the angle where it met the ceiling, a moving snake pattern coiled around the parameter of the room.  
  
Draco's roommate was calmly reading a hardcover book entitled: "The Icewind Dale Trilogy." To Draco's surprise, the figures on the cover were stationary, and not moving.  
  
Unable to hide his curiosity, Malfoy looked over at Cameron, with a weary expression on his face. "The hell is that about?" asked Draco.  
  
Cameron looked up at Draco again, with an interested expression. He was a mousy-haired kid slightly taller and broader than Draco, with brown eyes and light freckles on top of his nose.  
  
"Muggle Fantasy," he said energetically. "I still can't figure out most of it though, some sort of black house elf named Drizzt teams up with this, huge Muggle named Wulfgar, and they fight this crazy wizard."  
  
Draco shook his head at the absurdity of such a thing. "Bloody unrealistic books, how could a house elf and a Muggle possibly beat a wizard?"  
  
"I guess that is why they call it fantasy," suggested Cameron, returning to his book. "I mean, this wizard is as stupid as sin. Look here, he has Drizzt right where he wants him, and what does he do? No Avada Kedavra, no Cruciatus Curse, he trash talks the house elf, tries to use this fancy crystal thingamajig on him, and then falls arse first off a mountain! Blimey, he didn't even pull out his bloody wand!"  
  
As much as Draco found Cameron annoying right now, he could not help but take a small amount of liking to the guy. He was normally quite quiet, filling journal after journal with poetry, stories and tales. Often, he would ask Draco to read them, but Draco would always find an excuse, it was what he was best at.  
  
And when Cameron wasn't writing, he always had his head buried in a book, though it was usually a Wizarding book. It had always boggled Draco's mind as to why this boy was sorted into Slytherin and not Ravenclaw.  
  
"Must be a Mudblood," said Draco offhandedly. "Reminds me of something Hermione Granger would do if she turned evil."  
  
Cameron chuckled at that idea, and put his head back into the book.  
  
Draco's brief talk with Cameron was a welcome reprieve from what he deemed he must do next. With a sigh, however, he was brought back to reality as he sat down at his desk and stared at the barren, green wall in front of him.  
  
Hesitantly, he removed his wand from his robes and pointed it at his second desk drawer.  
  
"Alohomora!"  
  
Draco tapped each corner of the drawer once with his wand and the middle twice. After completing the unlocking sequence, the drawer shot out. Wasting no time, Draco took from it two pieces of parchment, one was written upon, the other was blank. As he had done for the fiftieth time, Draco unrolled the wrinkled parchment with writing upon it and began to read.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * M Potenza prima che passione  
  
Son,  
  
It is time for you to do your duty for the Dark Lord.  
  
I have informed you of the Dark Lord's desire to defeat two enemies with one, swift stroke. Harry Potter has been causing trouble ever since he was a fetus, and Redetyor has become too ambitious. If Harry Potter is to be any threat to our Lord, he must use the sword of Godric Gryffindor, for once the power of Narhassa becomes His, that will be the only weapon that can stop him.  
  
What I demand of you is to ascertain this sword, using any means necessary. First, earn the trust of the Potter boy by disclosing information you swore to keep secret under the Malfoy Code 6: "A Malfoy does not tell the secrets of his or her family." I hereby grant you permission to use the Malfoy Amendment 043-B: "Code 6 can be rendered obsolete if said secrets earns the trust of an asset in the short term, in the name of Dark Lord (Insert Name Here)". From there, discern the sword's location, and when you attain it, use the Permission Slip I have attached to leave school immediately.  
  
Do not fail, or else.  
  
Lucius P. Malfoy, Your Father  
  
Potenza prima che passione  
  
M  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Draco sighed and lowered the parchment. He calmly withdrew an inkbottle and his quill and began to write nervously upon the blank sheet.  
  
Father,  
  
I screwed up, they no longer trust me. I failed and I'm,  
  
With a grunt, Draco crinkled up the parchment and threw it away angrily. He put his elbows upon the desk and buried his face into his hands. Why did he have to follow Weasley into Dumbledore's office today? Why did he have to get so insistent that he was the Heir of Gryffindor? Couldn't he have just waited for Weasley to draw it, stunned him, taken it, and ran?  
  
Well, not likely, since Dumbledore was there, admitted Draco to himself.  
  
Draco slammed his fists on top of his desk, shoved the letter from his father into the open drawer and kicked it shut, drawing a strange look from Cameron.  
  
They aren't going to beat a Malfoy at this, said Draco. It looks like I'll have to resort to lying, treachery and deceit.  
  
Draco paused for a moment.  
  
Oh bugger, I forgot, those didn't work.  
  
The pale-faced boy narrowed his eyes. He had always thought that doing his duty to his family was often a messy and disheartening business. Yet, while he could feel a tiny shred of conscience within him, telling him that what he was doing was not right, he was a Malfoy. It was his duty as a Malfoy to kill the angel on his right shoulder, and replace it with a second devil. It was his swore oath to use his might to uphold the strong, and punish the weak.  
  
"Potenza prima che passione," said Draco calmly, repeating one of the Malfoy family mottos. "Power before passion."  
  
Time to up the ante, Potter, decided Malfoy, pushing a bang of silvery gray hair out of his conflicted eyes.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Next Chapter: No forecast available, entering uncharted waters. Dun Dun Duuun. What is Malfoy planning now? Voldemort knows Redetyor is coming, but why is Redetyor so confident? Has Sean gone over to the dark side in light of his friends turning his back on him? Finally, what are Harry, Ron and Hermione going to do? Will Ron get laid, and will Draco die a virgin? Stay Tuned. 


	19. Gryffindor and Slytherin Volcanos

A/N: Would just like to thank all those who reviewed this story on Schnoogle, at FictionAlley.com! You guys inspired me to keep writing and posting my work. I hope you all like this story here as well! Please read and review, it's how I get my kicks after work. If you hate the story or are bored with it, please tell me why. While I love good reviews, I only learn from bad ones.  
  
Chapter 19: Gryffindor and Slytherin Volcanoes  
  
Harry angrily kicked the chair out from under his dresser in the Gryffindor Common Room, causing Ron to wince. Two days had passed since Sean's expulsion, and now, freshly out of the Hospital wing, he was learning of the news for the first time.  
  
"How could Dumbledore do that?" roared Harry, slamming his foot into the wooden chair again, sending it skidding across the carpeted floor. "Send him away from Hogwarts all alone! I wouldn't be surprised if Voldemort has him already!"  
  
Ron blinked and sighed. "Harry, I thought you already knew. Didn't he say good-bye to you?"  
  
Harry shook his head, fury cooking upon his face like a sunny-sided egg. "No! Who can blame him?" yelled Harry, for his calm temperament was out to lunch. "You sat by idly while Dumbledore threw him out of school, to face the world again on his own! He had more important things to think about than saying good-bye to me!"  
  
The red-haired boy held up his hands into the air defensively as he slumped upon his bed. "What do you want from me, Harry? If you want me to apologize for the way I treated him while he was here, I hope you have a lot of free time, because it will be awhile."  
  
"No, you self-righteous pillock!" snapped Harry, in rage.  
  
"Then why are you yelling at me!" shouted Ron back, his passionate anger taking the driver seat.  
  
"BECAUSE I'M PISSED OFF!"  
  
Ron wrinkled his brow as he unclogged his pained eardrum with his pinky. "This I can see."  
  
Harry glared at Ron furiously. "Eat sod, prat!"  
  
Ron looked up to Harry, matching his gaze. "Piss off, git!"  
  
And, as if by magic, Harry's angry expression faltered, replaced by a bittersweet laugh. He slumped down on his bed and despite his anger at the situation, he could not help but chuckle. Ron, too, began to smile gradually, as he became more aware that Harry was not mad at him.  
  
"I just cannot believe Dumbledore did that," said Harry, at last having successfully controlled his anger.  
  
Ron gazed over at Harry from his own bed. "It makes sense, Harry. Do you think Voldemort is going to go through all the effort of going to California to find him and take him hostage? He's probably already home, with wards all around his house, placed by Dumbledore himself."  
  
"It's not that, Ron," said Harry, dejectedly. "Sean was my friend even if he was your enemy. I'm going to miss him, ok?"  
  
Ron nodded slowly. "Not as much as Hermione."  
  
"No," said Harry, looking up to his best friend. "As much as Hermione, just in different ways. Despite only knowing him a few months, he became one of my better friends. Loosing a better friend is never easy."  
  
"Hey," said Ron cheerily. "You still got me to kick around, and you still get to be preached at by Hermione, we'll get by."  
  
Harry smiled coyly. "And, I still have Jessica."  
  
At once, Ron's face went ghastly pale, causing his freckles to nearly become luminescent. He looked as though he had overslept a final exam. Not even a blind man could have possibly missed it.  
  
"Ron?" asked Harry. "Is everything ok?"  
  
Ron swallowed a lump in his throat. "Yeah, Jessica, yeah, I guess you still, have her."  
  
"Ron," trailed off Harry, coaxing Ron like he were a naughty child holding a secret from him. "What's wrong with Jessica?"  
  
"What's wrong with Jessica?" repeated Ron, looking stunned.  
  
"Yes, also known as a question. In tradition, these are generally the precursors for answers," said Harry.  
  
Ron swallowed nervously again. "Look, Harry, now's just not the time to tell you, I mean,"  
  
"Ron."  
  
"No, really, Harry, now is just not the time,"  
  
"Ron."  
  
Ron's face wrinkled up. "No, I'm serious,"  
  
"Ron."  
  
"Alright, fine!" said Ron, growing impatient. "Hermione and I were going to tell you together, but, oh, bugger it Harry, Jessica is working for Redetyor! She isn't even a Narhassa wizard, she was a real wizard all along."  
  
Harry nodded his head slowly, as if Ron had just told him what his transformation homework was, in case he had forgotten.  
  
"Hmm," said Harry, sinking back into his pillow.  
  
Ron, who knew Harry too well, was quick to stand. "Harry, we just found out two days ago, we were going to tell you tonight, after you got out of the hospital. We are sorry!"  
  
"Hmm," continued Harry, scratching his chin, his face still expressionless.  
  
Ron, who again knew Harry too well, began backing away.  
  
"How do you figure that, Ron Weasley?" he asked, his voice sounding genuine, even kind.  
  
Ron lowered his eyes. "The Sorting Hat told us in Dumbledore's office. Sort of saw into her head, you know."  
  
"Hmm."  
  
Ron looked at Harry. "Harry, please, you have that look in your eyes."  
  
"Look?" asked Harry, seeming genuinely perplexed as he folded his hands behind his head. "What look are you referring to?"  
  
Ron backed up another step. "That, 'I'm one step shy of going on a homicidal rage, slaughtering everyone in my path, because I've been wronged in every way, shape and form in the past five minutes' look."  
  
"Oh," said Harry, sounding distant. "Yeah, that one."  
  
Ron knew the volcano within Harry was rumbling, and was two steps shy of blowing its cap.  
  
"Harry," trailed off Ron.  
  
"Yes," asked Harry, peering at Ron curiously. "Do you need something?"  
  
"No, nothing," said Ron, looking down at his shoes. "You?"  
  
Harry nodded, emotionlessly. "Come to think of it, I do. I need to go on a homicidal rage, slaughtering everyone in my path, because I've been wronged in every way shape and form in the past five minutes."  
  
With that, Harry leapt off his bed, and stomped out of the room, taking strides so fierce that Ron could not even fathom it.  
  
Ron blew steam out from his pressed lips. "Move over Chamber of Secrets, now I've REALLY loosed a monster."  
  
With that, Ron jogged to keep up with Harry.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Harry!" exclaimed Seamus as Dean and Colin Creevey looked up from their table. Had Harry been in, any frame of mind, he would have thought it strange that Colin was sitting with Seamus and Dean. "I'm glad to see you out of the hospital. You seem to be feeling ok. Care to join us for some Exploding Sn,"  
  
Without a word, or a nod, Harry overturned Seamus' table with a rush of amazing strength, causing Dean and Colin to shout out with shock and leap backward.  
  
Harry stormed out of the common room, pushing aside two nervous first years in his way, sending the smaller of the two boys to the ground.  
  
"Sorry guys," said Ron as he rushed after his best friend. "Harry has gone bye-bye."  
  
Seamus rushed to his room to get his Prozac, leaving a stunned and bewildered Dean and Colin.  
  
"Bring some down for me too," stated the mousy-haired fourth year boy.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Harry, what, where are you going? It's after curfew, and we are outside of our common room without the invisibility cloak!" exclaimed Ron as he followed after Harry.  
  
"Oh," said Harry kindly, as he rushed down the darkened corridor. "I'm going sort it out with Jessica."  
  
"Sort it out?" winced Ron. "Look, it may not be wise,"  
  
"Damn right it isn't," cut off Harry, passing by the location where Cedric and Harry had exchanged information, nearly a year before.  
  
"If, if you try the Avada Kedavra Curse again, I'm going to try and stop you," stammered Ron.  
  
Harry nodded slowly. "I'll understand and not take it personally."  
  
Ron's eyes widened.  
  
"No!" he shouted, his voice echoing off the barren corridors as they climbed a staircase leading to the Hufflepuff Common Room. He grabbed Harry's shoulder.  
  
Harry's response was a fist driven into the gut of Ron's stomach, causing him to grunt and fall to his knees.  
  
"Sorry," muttered Harry shamefully, as he turned around and continued walking. He finished walking the steps and turned down the last stretch of hallway.  
  
However, if he thought a single punch was going to take Ron down, Harry clearly was not thinking straight. Before he could react, Harry felt about one hundred and seventy pounds of Weasley leap on top of his back, tackling him to the ground. It was a short wrestling match before Ron pinned Harry to the ground, his size advantage and surprise factor making it a rather simple victory.  
  
"Get off me, Ron!" shouted Harry, his cold rage fading into pulsating magma as he thrashed about wildly.  
  
Harry's breath was choked out of him as Ron put his arm against his throat, effectively silencing him. Ron was too big for Harry to resist, and soon, the hostile thrashing ceased.  
  
"Calm down!" hissed Ron in a harsh whisper, and then more gently. "Calm down,"  
  
Harry rasped for air, but Ron felt Harry's body loosen from beneath him. Slowly, Ron lifted his arm from Harry's neck, and Harry took a few deep breaths.  
  
"Stop," said Ron, speaking as calmly as he could muster, despite his own fury at being sucker punched by his best friend.  
  
Harry nodded, blinking sweat from his eyes.  
  
"If you promise me that you'll come back to the Common Room, I'll let you up. I'll take your word on it," said Ron darkly.  
  
"Ok," said Harry weakly, as if his spirit was completely broken.  
  
Ron got off Harry, standing to his impressive height. Harry remained on the ground, coughing after having his oxygen supply cut to his lungs. With as much bravery and self-control as he could muster, Ron extended his hand to Harry, who took it and rose with some help.  
  
"It, it happened again," said Harry, his voice stained by a noticeable wheeze. "I, became a dark wizard again,"  
  
Ron shook his head, helping Harry to stand. "No, Harry, you became more pissed off than you have ever been in your life. I know you weren't going to really use the Avada Kedavra Curse this time. Only Redetyor or Voldemort could have screwed with your mind to make you think that was a good idea. I know you too well, Harry."  
  
Harry sighed and Ron could see the emotions in Harry's eyes fly by as if they were windows. He was feeling scared, frightened, enraged, and used, all in one messy jumble of emotion.  
  
Ron grasped Harry's shoulders. "You AREN'T a dark wizard, and never will be."  
  
Harry nodded weakly, affirming that Ron was right.  
  
"I don't know why I said that," said Harry.  
  
"Hello down there?" called a voice that interrupted Harry and Ron. "What's going on? I cannot see from my position. I smell and hear you, Harry Potter."  
  
Ron's heart leapt to his throat. "It's Filch! Run!" exclaimed Ron.  
  
"No," said Harry, his voice sounding weak, but nonetheless calm. "It's Badge, the Hufflepuff badger."  
  
"Same difference," yelped Ron, pulling at Harry's arm. "We are still going to get more detentions than we have lifetime to serve it if we are caught!"  
  
Harry shook his head, "No, he's decent for a secret or two." He made a move to continue walking toward the Hufflepuff common room. "  
  
"I want to see Jessica, now."  
  
Ron continued pulling at Harry's arm, his face very grave. Ron had used patience beyond his own comprehension, to take Harry's punch and still keep a cool head. Should Harry continue to the Hufflepuff Common Room, Ron knew his patience would run out.  
  
"Harry, you swore to me," sneered Ron. "We are going back to the Gryffindor tower. You gave your word!"  
  
Harry glared at Ron for one of the tensest moments of the red-haired boy's life. For the first time Ron could remember, he was not sure if Harry would choose his friendship over vengeance.  
  
And Ron knew he would really loose control if Harry chose vengeance.  
  
"Sorry Badge," said Harry into the darkness, where he knew the picture of the badger was hung, just a few feet away. "I'm in the wrong hallway."  
  
The voice hummed in consideration. "Doesn't sound like it, Mr. Potter, but, very well. Have a good night."  
  
Without a word, the continued best friends turned around, and walked back to the Gryffindor common room.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
The next day, tensions were riding as high as ever.  
  
Harry and Ron, while sharing no distinct dispute, avoided each other out of the sheer awkwardness of facing each other last night, and, for the first time ever, coming to physical blows. Yet, as much as Ron wanted to blame Harry for his actions last night, it was his duty as his friend to forgive him. He had just found out that his girlfriend was working for his sworn enemy and that Dumbledore had severed off a great friend of his that Harry had trusted.  
  
So, it did not help matters much to be sitting next to him during a Double Potions class, one where Snape seemed exceptionally vicious.  
  
"Today," began Snape coolly. "We will begin creating one of the most dangerous potions you will be dealing with during your Hogwarts career. Dealing with the hazards of a Barrier Potion are significant, and can be fatal."  
  
Neville took a deep swallow, his breath catching in his throat. Harry eyed him with a deadly cruel glare, Ron could only wonder why Harry was looking at him like that.  
  
What did Neville do wrong?  
  
"Mr. Potter," said Snape shrilly, causing all the students in the class to turn and stare at him. "Why don't you, from your homework assignment last night, tell me the four hazards that we will be dealing with?"  
  
"I didn't do it," said Harry, turning his head from Neville to the top of his desk. His slouched position was what likely drew Snape's attention, for his cheek was idly resting in the palm of his right hand while he indifferently tapped his quill feather upon table with his left.  
  
"Well, isn't that such a pity" said Snape, clicking his tongue on the top of his mouth. He seemed positively thrilled. "I suppose that is ten points from Gryffindor,"  
  
"Joy," muttered Harry, completely uncaringly.  
  
", for each question inaccurately answered," continued Snape, looking to his Slytherins. "What does that add up to, I fear I'm not the Arithmancy teacher for a reason."  
  
Draco smirked and raised his hands. "Well, Professor, I do believe that is forty..."  
  
Snape leered coolly at Potter, who had not even flinched upon hearing forty points would be taken from his house. The Slytherins all cackled gleefully.  
  
"Wait!" begged Hermione, raising her hand wildly from Harry's left side. "The four risks are,"  
  
"No one asked you, Ms. Granger, five points for speaking when not called upon. Forty-five, then?"  
  
Malfoy nodded energetically, putting his hand to his mouth and rolling his eyes slyly toward Hermione and Harry.  
  
Ron distinctly caught him winking,  
  
One Slytherin, a boy named Cameron Trent, fell out of his chair laughing, while Pansy Parkinson lay practically sprawled on the table, giggling madly.  
  
Ron could feel his own rage building within him, but it was Harry that spoke first.  
  
"Forty points is a bit harsh, wouldn't you say?" he said calmly, his eyes not lifting from the top of his desk. The hairs on Ron's neck stood up, as his eyes widened. His rage was driven out of his body, as he saw that look in Harry's eyes.  
  
Oh no,  
  
Snape could hardly believe Potter was speaking back. "Shall I take another five, to make it a well rounded fifty?"  
  
Harry rotated his head up slowly, glaring at Snape. "Will my answer make the slightest bit of difference?"  
  
"No, I do not believe so," said Snape joyfully, "Fifty points in one class. Impressive, Potter."  
  
Harry stood up and Ron was half inclined to restrain him, in case he made a move for Snape. Yet, as livid as Harry seemed, all he did was gather his books, and begin to walk out of the class.  
  
"Mr. Potter?" demanded Snape. "Just where do you think you are going? Shall I give you a pair of detentions to go well with your point deficit?"  
  
Harry glanced over his shoulder. "I wish my father had been somewhere else that day."  
  
At first, the Potions teacher did not react. Yet, when the full meaning of the words had sunk in, Snape's arrogant expression shifted slowly into one of pure shock. It was clear that only four people in the room understood the severity of what Harry just said, for even Malfoy seemed perplexed.  
  
Ron's jaw dropped, and Snape said no more as Harry walked out the door.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Snape did not recover from the gravity of Harry's words, and nor did Ron or Hermione for the entire class. No more was spoken on the matter, and Snape sat down behind his desk, staring idly ahead, his arrogance completely stolen. In his sort of dazed stupor, Ron would not be surprised if Snape would completely forget to take the points from Gryffindor.  
  
Hermione was smart enough to know that Harry had wished Snape were dead, very subtly. While there was usually nothing wrong with such a thought, expressing it in the way Harry did upset her deeply.  
  
Harry was always the bastion of good will when Hermione and Ron had run short. He was slow to anger, always forgiving and understanding, and never mean to anyone. One time before, he had lost his cool in Snape's class, but had never said or done anything on par with what he said.  
  
And so, on her way to up to the Gryffindor common room with Ron, talking in hushed tones, she was almost relieved to hear a voice from behind her; a voice which always seemed to do one of two things, insult her or provide answers. She hoped today was a day for the latter.  
  
"Granger," called the voice of Draco Malfoy. "Interesting potions class, was it not?"  
  
She turned around slowly to see Draco Malfoy, standing alone. Under his right arm, he held his Potions book, and his left hand was combing through his sleek, short platinum blonde hair. His striking, pointed features seemed tense and eager, perhaps even fallible.  
  
Hermione had never seen him looking fallible before.  
  
"Bugger off, Malfoy," sneered Ron. "Sell 'prat' somewhere else," Ron rolled his eyes up the stairs of the Gryffindor Tower. "We are well stocked here."  
  
Malfoy looked at Ron quizzically. "What gave you the crazy idea I wanted to talk to you, Weasel? I said 'Granger' for a reason."  
  
"Strange," said Hermione, looking to Ron. "You called me 'Granger' and not 'Mudblood', you are either up to something, have something VERY important to say, or need a cat scan."  
  
Draco licked his thin lips. "Granger," he repeated. "I wish to speak to you, without the barn yard animal."  
  
Ron's fists clenched at his side, but Hermione placed a soft hand to his forearm. Her sweet, soft touch was enough to put him into relative ease, as he loosened up his muscles.  
  
"You want to speak?" repeated Hermione, her face smooth with dignity. "Then speak." Hermione held her dignified countenance. "And as for the barn yard animal, I guess it will have to stay, since the only pig around here is you, Malfoy."  
  
Ron smirked at Hermione as Draco's face tinged with a flustered pink color.  
  
"Charming, Mudblood," said Draco bitterly. "You are formidable in a battle of wits. I do not know how you get such practice with two dunces like Potter and Weasley as the other corners of your social triangle."  
  
Hermione raised her brow. "Compared to the genetic anomalies you usually have at your side, Malfoy, I'll take that as a compliment."  
  
At that, Draco laughed, his gray eyes glittering with a certain sort of emotion. Ron noticed it as the same look he always saw in Harry's eyes, right before the volcano within him erupted.  
  
Determination and desperation.  
  
"I want to talk to you about Seth Redetyor," said Draco, regaining his composure. "Perhaps I have some information that will help you."  
  
Hermione put her hands to her hip. "Well, then you can tell me and Ron together, now can't you? He's just going to find out everything you say anyway."  
  
Draco, again, laughed. Ron could not mistake the stressed look within the boy's face.  
  
"Weasley can wait, then. We just had Double Potions with that mug, I'm not up for seeing it another minute."  
  
Ron stepped forward. "If you have something to say it, spill it, otherwise turn your sallow arse around and head back to that prison cell of a dungeon you Slytherins call home."  
  
Hermione backed Ron up, putting her hands to her hips.  
  
Draco glared at Ron crisply, with a very angry expression. "Fine. Come on."  
  
Malfoy turned around and began walking toward the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione looked to each other, shrugged, and followed him. Malfoy passed the Great Hall and turned into the Main Hall, heading for the door outside.  
  
"Where are we going?" snapped Ron crisply.  
  
"Just come on," sighed Malfoy. "I need to show you something outside."  
  
Ron shrugged and followed after Malfoy, Hermione just behind him. With a push, Malfoy opened up the door. A gust of cold air hit the pale boy, blowing around his short hair for a moment before it died down.  
  
Outside, the snow had hardened to the strength of crispy ice, which nearly blinded Ron with its glare as Malfoy took a step outside. Ron put a hand to his eyes and followed Malfoy outside. His weight was not sufficient to crack the snow beneath him and Malfoy beckoned both to follow him.  
  
"I'm asking you a second time, Malfoy, where are we going?" demanded Ron.  
  
Malfoy turned around, seeming genuine. "I can tell you and waste more of your time, or I can show you and be done with you in five minutes. What's your pleasure?"  
  
Ron snorted. "Lead on."  
  
The trio continued across the field outside of Hogwarts, riding atop the snow precariously. Ron noticed that they were making their way down to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.  
  
"It's strange," said Malfoy, with a very sincere tone to his voice. "Crabbe, Goyle and I were out here this morning and found it," continued Malfoy as they drew closer to the wood. "I knew the second I saw it that Granger would need a look at it."  
  
"What is it exactly?" asked Hermione as they drew closer to the forest.  
  
"I have it right here," said Draco, opening the fold of his robe and producing something, his wand.  
  
Before Ron could react, Malfoy hissed loudly and aimed it at Hermione.  
  
"Stupefy!"  
  
A pink beam shot out of Draco's wand and struck Hermione down. She fell unconscious before she could even react.  
  
Draco smirked and turned his wand to Ron, who had begun to withdraw his own, but he was nowhere fast enough in light of this surprise attack.  
  
"Pertificus Totalis!" bellowed Draco, as Ron withdrew his wand. Unable to resist the powerful magic, Ron suddenly stiffened and toppled painfully onto the frosted snow, unable to do anything other than blink, hear or see the blue sky above him.  
  
Ron heard the sounds of two lumbering figures, cracking the icy snow beneath their feet, and heard Draco's voice.  
  
"Take her."  
  
A single grunt told Ron that Crabbe, Goyle or both of them had complied, and were likely now moving Hermione into the Forbidden Forest.  
  
And then, Draco's head appeared in Ron's vision, looking down at him. What was in place of his usual condescending smirk was nothing more than a frown.  
  
"I didn't want it to come to this, Weasley."  
  
If Ron could speak, a stream of colorful swears would have been his reply. Draco seemed to get that message by looking into his eyes.  
  
"Now, listen up, I'm only going to say this once. I want the Sorting Hat, with Godric's Sword in it. You are to come alone with these said objects tomorrow morning."  
  
Ron made a muffled grunt as every part of his body rebelled against the spell placed upon on him. Malfoy was no slouch wizard, however. It was just too strong to overcome.  
  
"Fail to produce the sword and hat by tomorrow, the Mudblood won't be found. If you tell Potter, the Mudblood will never be found. If you tell Dumbledore, the Mudblood will never be found, nor will your sister for the inconvenience."  
  
Ron screamed without opening his mouth, wanting nothing more than to make sure Malfoy was the one never found again.  
  
"Come alone and with the sword and hat, tomorrow morning, and walk a mile directly into the woods from this spot. We will find you. Once you give them over, you and her will be free to go."  
  
All of Ron's struggling rewarded him, he felt the spell weakening around his head and his feet.  
  
"You," began Ron, willing the words out of his mouth. After a moment, he felt the spell falter all together, as he struggled to rise. Malfoy seemed genuinely surprised that Ron was able to fight off his spell.  
  
"Not another move, Weasley," said Malfoy, pointing his wand to him.  
  
"You, aren't going to get away with this, Malfoy," said Ron, collapsing back onto the snow. There was no trace of Hermione, Crabbe and Goyle by the fringe of the forest.  
  
Malfoy looked at Ron. "Of course I will," he said coldly, without any trace of sarcasm. "I'm a model student, even prefect if I wish to be, but I turned down the job to keep up my image," Draco trailed off for a minute, recollecting his thoughts. "Oh yeah, and my father will be the next Minister of Magic, and we are rich. Trust me, a Malfoy can survive anything."  
  
Ron glared at Malfoy with reckoning. "If you hurt a hair on her head, you won't survive me. I guarantee it."  
  
The pale boy, silhouetted against the sun, appeared to be some sort of fallen angel, his gray eyes cold with shame and malice, while his hair seemed to glow angelically as the light rippled off it, forming a halo. While Malfoy was unusually a very tightly bound book, Ron could read clearly that Draco was not proud of what he was doing.  
  
"Are you going to do what I have asked you to do?" asked Draco. "And not break the rules I've given you?"  
  
Ron sneered up at Draco. "Yes."  
  
Draco nodded slowly. "Then, she will be fine. I don't want to hurt her."  
  
Ron maintained his cold glare on Draco. "Why are you doing this, Malfoy? We trusted you, sorta. You lied to us and betrayed us."  
  
"Lied, yes," said Draco matter-of-factly. "Betrayed, no, I do not believe once I ever even led you on to believe we were on the same side."  
  
Ron was about to speak again when Malfoy cut him off. "As much as I'd like to keep up this chat, I've gotta run. Good morrow, Weasley."  
  
Malfoy tensed up his rod hand.  
  
"Stupefy!"  
  
And, Ron felt his world slip into the blackness of unconsciousness.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Next Chapter: Uncharted waters, Ron (and possibly Harry if he decides to cheat) will be forced to make a tough choice, trade the relics of Gryffindor for Hermione or not. All the while, December 1st is creeping around very quickly. Sean seems out of the picture, the question is: is he back in America or tucked away in Narhassa's common room? Only four more chapters are planned, through one more might spring up. Stay tuned! 


	20. Malfoy and the Mudblood

A/N: Would just like to thank all those who reviewed this story on Schnoogle, at FictionAlley.com! You guys inspired me to keep writing and posting my work. I hope you all like this story here as well! Please read and review, it's how I get my kicks after work. If you hate the story or are bored with it, please tell me why. While I love good reviews, I only learn from bad ones.  
  
Chapter 20: Malfoy and the Mudblood  
  
Hermione felt someone rapping her upon the face within the darkness. The fingers upon her face were soft, but cold, so startling cold. With a slight mumble, she could feel her body becoming more alert. She could feel a soft cushion beneath her, supporting her lower back and neck.  
  
The prickling sensation on her face stopped. Her eyelids fluttered open as the infinite darkness dispelled itself. At first, everything was out of focus. While still rather lightless, there was more than enough light to see by. A blonde boy - must be Draco - was working on something in the side of cave within which she was in. A whistling, whipping wind howled through her ears, drawing her attention to the entrance of the cave. To her left, there was a wide opening, leading out into the bright, white day. The cave she was in couldn't have been larger than a prison cell.  
  
And then, Malfoy turned around, his entire body rippling with the motion as the draft brought his black robe to life. While Hermione's vision was still blurred, she could see his hair, slightly disheveled and stationary, as if the wind itself made a deal with Malfoy to go around it and not through it. And then, he knelt down by her side.  
  
"Ah, you are awake," he said.  
  
At first, Hermione was completely confused. Why was she in a cave, alone with Malfoy? As soon as she asked herself, however, her last memories began to pervade her head, Malfoy and the woods, Malfoy and his wand, Stupefy!  
  
It now occurred to her that Malfoy had brought her here.  
  
Malfoy sat down by her side, his arm draping precariously over his left knee. "Are you ok?"  
  
"Where's, Ron?" asked Hermione, her voice grinding in her throat as she fought against the aftereffects of the Stunning Charm.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Weasley should be waking up as well, outside of Hogwarts," explained Malfoy with his usual pompous drawl. "He has a little job to do for me."  
  
Hermione struggled to sit up, and put her hand out for support. She realized that she was resting on the top of a woolen green blanket, with the insignia "M" upon it. Malfoy watched her with a hybrid look between amusement and shame.  
  
"Are you ok?" he asked again, his thin lips parting into a flawless smile. Even Hermione in her weakened state could see how fake it was, however.  
  
"You tell me," said Hermione, her resolve failing as she slumped back onto the blanket. "What do you mean to do with me?"  
  
Malfoy stood up and move to the other side of the cave and knelt down, retrieving something. "Keep you," he said as he withdrew something from a brown, burlap bag.  
  
Hermione rolled her head to keep Malfoy in her vision. "I'm flattered, but I'd rather be kept by a one legged goblin."  
  
The blonde haired boy approached her again and handed her a flask.  
  
"Drink that," said Malfoy.  
  
Hermione stared at him dourly, feeling nothing but scandalized now. She was trapped in a cave with Malfoy, being held prisoner by him! She took the flask, unscrewed the cap, and launched the contents of it into his face. What appeared to be water splashed all over Malfoy's face and robe, saturating his hair dirty blonde.  
  
"You first," snapped Hermione, lying back down.  
  
Malfoy grunted and stood up, extending his arms as the water dripped off of him chillingly.  
  
"Mudblood," he said sharply, wiping off his face with his hand. "Are you just trying to provoke me? You fail to understand, your fate and life are mine, if I wish to alter them!"  
  
Hermione maintained a beguiling stare at Malfoy, her brown eyes filled with so much anger, that it held Draco at bay. "Then go ahead," she said coldly. "Kill me."  
  
Draco walked to the other side of the cave, sat down and crossed his arms over his chest. It was obvious to Hermione that this was not Draco's plan, she just felt it would be the perfect thing for her to say to get under his skin.  
  
"So, where's Crabbe and Goyle?" stated Hermione. "You certainly don't have the bollocks to do this alone."  
  
Malfoy, still looking soaked, looked to Hermione with his gray eyes. "They are back at the school. I have no need for them, now."  
  
"How long are you keeping me here, if you aren't going to kill me?" snapped Hermione.  
  
"Until tomorrow," said Malfoy lazily.  
  
Hermione attempted to sit up again, only this time, was more successful as the last part of the stunning charm was successfully fought off. She reached into the folds of her robe, but predictably found that her wand was missing. Draco withdrew her wand from his robe, wiggled it in the air tauntingly, and then hid it from sight again.  
  
"Then why!" demanded Hermione, her face becoming flustered. "Why have you done this to me?"  
  
Draco simpered mirthlessly. "Because it's always been my naughty little fantasy, to be alone with Hermione Granger in a cold, clammy cave."  
  
"Well," began Hermione loftily, sitting back against the cave wall. "While you are in the business of fulfilling fantasies, why don't you fulfill mine?"  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, I love the direction this is going..."  
  
"Come over here, turn around, and let me drive my foot straight up that sodding opening of yours!"  
  
Malfoy winced. "How colorful. You are going to make this the longest day of my life, aren't you?"  
  
Hermione stuck out her lip sourly.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Malfoy lazily extended his wand. A plate of food slowly lifted from the ground and waved itself over the fire he had created at the mouth of the cave. It was time for lunch, an hour or two later.  
  
It became tough for Hermione to tell the time within the cave, as it all passed by so slowly. She sat defiantly upon her blanket, her arms crossed.  
  
Malfoy looked back to her, and pointed the wand at her. The plate he warmed up floated over to Hermione.  
  
"Thank Crabbe for the fine dining," said Malfoy slyly. "He's been taking second helpings for the past few days, saving them for this little stakeout."  
  
Hermione looked at the plate in front of her, filled with corn beef and cabbage.  
  
"Exactly how long have you been planning on kidnapping me?"  
  
Draco shrugged. "Oh, a day or two. It was sort of a plan boon out of desperation, you know how it is. One minute, I was sitting in my room, and was like: Gee, wouldn't it be fun to add kidnapping to my lengthy list of accolades?"  
  
"You don't look as proud as you sound," said Hermione coldly as Draco sent a fork and spoon her way.  
  
Draco looked slightly miffed. "I'm let down. Kidnapping is much easier than I was hoping."  
  
"You are never up for a challenge," said Hermione crisply. "Why do you think your friends are only those you can control like pawn pieces on a chessboard? Try another excuse."  
  
Draco stared up at her as he picked up the utensils for his own lunch, a similar helping to Hermione's.  
  
"Fine, I was hoping to kidnap Parvati Patil, someone halfway attractive, but I grabbed the wrong Gryffindor."  
  
Hermione raised her upper lip in disdain. "What goes on in your head?" she demanded. "Does a little voice within your head tell you that 'insulting people is the only way of life?"  
  
"Nah," said Draco casually. "That's what my brain tells me. The little voice says that I am really good looking."  
  
Finding no possible retort, Hermione continued picking at her food.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
A few hours later, the sun began to go down. Malfoy used both his wand and Hermione's to light up the cave with dual Lumos spells. He sat down against his side of the wall, his light blonde hair seeming to swim and shift in the shadows of the cave.  
  
"You still haven't answered my question," said Hermione, no longer sounding all that disdainful. "Why have you done this?"  
  
"Didn't I tell you?" asked Draco. "Later tonight, to make my fantasy complete, will you put on tight leather I have for you and give me some of that 'naughty Gryffindor' routine?"  
  
Hermione just stared stupidly at him. "Now, that was abusing sarcasm."  
  
Draco scowled for the first time, loosing his indifferent glare. "Look, Granger, I'm not going to tell you why. Stop pushing me."  
  
"It must be real important," she said coldly, matching his tone. "What I cannot figure out is why you didn't just have Crabbe and Goyle do it, keeping yourself completely uninvolved."  
  
Draco was about to speak, when Hermione continued. "It must be something you cannot afford to mess up; sort of your last chance to do something."  
  
"And who said you weren't good at Divination," said Draco dully.  
  
Hermione stared at him expectantly.  
  
"Ok," said Draco, slapping his pale hands to his knees as he stared at her from across the cave. "You want to know?"  
  
Hermione continued to stare at him, still quite expectantly.  
  
"I need Weasley to bring me the sword of Gryffindor," said Ron. "Sorting Hat too, to prove it is official."  
  
"Oh, doesn't that make a whole lot of sense now," said Hermione, with a cold, methodical voice. "That is why you wanted us to think you were an Heir of Gryffindor, so we'd let you have the sword."  
  
Draco folded his arms, looking away.  
  
"And, I bet that was your agenda all along, wasn't it?" cooed Hermione. "You make a show of helping us to earn our trust, and then betray us by stealing the only weapon that can defeat Narhassa for good."  
  
"Bang on," said Draco, still looking away from Hermione. "You crafty Mudblood, you figured it all out."  
  
"No," said Hermione sharply. "I haven't. What I cannot figure out is why, after five years of waiting for this moment; You have me where you want me, Ron and Harry beneath your boot with little option but to give you what you want, you would feel anything but a sick sort of pride."  
  
"Who says I don't feel it?" said Draco coldly.  
  
"You are ashamed," said Hermione.  
  
Draco stood up and walked to the mouth of the cave. "Yeah, the shame is so great, I'm going to end my own life and let you go free."  
  
Hermione stood up as well, staring at his back. "And there you go again, with that stupid sarcasm that you use to cover up your real feelings. What are you so afraid of, Malfoy?"  
  
"Afraid?" snapped Draco, turning around to face Hermione. "Let me tell you something about fear, Granger. A Malfoy does not feel fear. Fear gets in the way of logic, creating illogical situations within ones head in times of trouble. The way we have been on the top of the bloody food chain for hundreds of years is by killing those emotions at an early age!"  
  
Hermione stared at him. "You must have had an interesting childhood."  
  
"Oh, spare me the psych evaluation, Mudblood," sneered Draco. "Besides, I'm beyond hope of salvation; I serve Voldemort and I'm good looking and know it."  
  
"Why?" demanded Hermione.  
  
Draco shrugged. "Because I was born that way; and I'm certain that I have some veela within me, would explain why, if I wanted to, I can do a nasty pole dance and,"  
  
"No!" snapped Hermione. "I mean, why do you serve Voldemort."  
  
"Oh," said Draco, looking discouraged. "Malfoy Code 21: It is always better to serve evil than stand in its way."  
  
Hermione fixed Draco with a look she might use to behold a demented hunchback. "You are such a coward."  
  
"Right," said Draco with a wry frown. "You Gryffindors are all the same. Just because I'm not willing to give my life in a righteous struggle against evil doesn't mean I'm a damn coward!"  
  
Hermione snorted dryly. "You wouldn't even give a fingernail."  
  
Draco pouted slightly. "Of course not," said Draco stretching out his hands. "How could I ruin such beautiful works of art like these?"  
  
As much as Hermione wanted to hate Draco for being so sarcastic and for doing what he did today, she could not help but smile weakly as she sat back down upon the green blanket.  
  
"You aren't exactly good looking, you know," said Hermione snidely. "I don't like the prissy, blonde, fragile look too much. You look like a girl."  
  
"Excuse me?" demanded Draco, his voice leaping an octive, it was like Hermione had told him that a meteor was on collision course with the Earth and would impact in ten seconds. "Not good looking? Are you a lesbian, or just blind?"  
  
Hermione smiled ruthlessly. "I mean, look at you, your face is pointed like a rat, you are scrawny, you are short, and, well, you have this sort of "creature of the night motif" going for you between your pasty face and your blonde hair."  
  
"Well!" exclaimed Draco, as their conversation seemed to degrade into a mudslinging competition. "You look like a beaver-toothed mop!"  
  
"And, on top of it all," continued Hermione. "You are a sodding prat!"  
  
Draco snorted with contempt. "I'm not going to have this conversation with you. You are a Mudblood, and, well, buggered if it be that you are also my prisoner." He glared at Hermione coldly. "Shut it!"  
  
Hermione fell silent, her expression a bit brighter, knowing that she had gotten under Draco's skin.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
The nighttime proved to be bone-chillingly cold as a snow flurry fell upon the ground outside of their cave. Hermione, wrapped in Draco's blanket, felt warm enough, though it was clear that Draco was freezing, for he continually renewed his Warming Charm every five minutes. All he was wearing was his Hogwarts robe.  
  
The sun had now completely set and, by Hermione's guess, it was approaching seven o' clock.  
  
"What time are you meeting Ron tomorrow?" asked Hermione.  
  
"S,. six," stammered Draco, his pale cheeks looking even more pronounced in the dark.  
  
Hermione leered at him. "Only another eleven more hours. Oh, and I do believe it will only get colder for nine of those."  
  
"I, always miss the little details," said Draco, despite his shivering, maintaining as much dignity as possible. "Kid-kidnap you, take down Weasley, remember food, but forget my bloody blan-blanket."  
  
Hermione looked at Draco, a very strange thought crossing her mind. She was his prisoner, and she was wrapped in his blanket. Why didn't he simply demand her to give him the blanket she currently had? Draco had not even mentioned it once, and did not even seem to think it was a viable solution.  
  
"Look," said Hermione. "Let's just call this whole thing off. If you just take me back to Hogwarts now, I won't tell anyone. Ok?"  
  
Draco shook his head. "No."  
  
"Draco," said Hermione, for the first time ever, using his first name to address him. That startling revelation made her trail off.  
  
"Hermione," stuttered Draco, glaring at her antagonistically.  
  
"You are going to freeze to death," she said coldly. "It has to be about ten degrees below Celsius right now!"  
  
Draco glared at Hermione. "I'm a cold-blooded person." He then added with a touch of sarcasm in between his words. "Th-thanks for your concern tho-though,"  
  
"That's it," said Hermione, standing up. "You are in no condition to keep me a prisoner. I could just walk out, and you couldn't do anything about it!"  
  
"Go ahead," said Draco, managing a smirk. "We are somewhere d-deep in the Forbidden Fo-forest. You have no idea where. Do you really want to be lost at night out there?"  
  
Hermione sighed and sat back down. He was definitely right. Whether she like it or not, she could either be kept prisoner by an attractive boy or by vampires, werewolves and giant spiders. It was her choice.  
  
And then, Hermione bit her tongue painfully in frustration.  
  
Attractive boy? She made a face as though she had just bit into a mucus flavor bean. Maybe the cold is getting to you as well.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Another two hours passed by slowly, as Hermione was unable to find sleep. The cold was beginning to get to her as well, despite her blanket. The temperature was dropping extremely roughly as a painful wind ripped through the cave opening, chilling Hermione to the bones.  
  
And Draco barely seemed on the verge of consciousness, as he constantly was mumbling the words to the Warming Charm. Yet, such a spell was only helpful on properly prepared clothing, which Draco had forgotten to do. Hermione had given Harry a scarf for his birthday with a constant Warming Charm on it, and had spent the better part of a day creating it.  
  
Still, not once, had Draco asked Hermione for the blanket. Despite him being the reason why she was in this predicament, she could not help but think that if something happened to him tonight, it would be her fault for not helping him.  
  
More on the point, she did not have the stomach to sit there and watch someone freeze to death before her very eyes.  
  
"Look," said Hermione finally, shaking of a shiver. "This blanket is large enough for the both of us."  
  
"Y-y-you n-noticed?" stammered Draco fitfully, as he rocked back and forth, trying to warm himself.  
  
Hermione wasn't sure how to take that response, but Draco continued.  
  
"As-as much as y-y-you w-would like me-e in the s-same sheet as y- you, I will d-die before s-snuggling ne-next to a Mud-mudblood."  
  
Hermione huffed in desperation. "A prat to the end, I see."  
  
"May-maybe," said Draco, at last showing a bit of uncertainty.  
  
"Draco," said Hermione again, the boy's first name ringing a bell of discordance within her. "I'm not going to watch you freeze to death. I would not get a thrill from that, seeing as I am not a Slytherin. Get over here, now."  
  
Draco still stubbornly refused, making no move to go toward Hermione.  
  
"Fine," said Hermione, deciding to try something. She knew the thought of taking her blanket HAD to have crossed his mind, but there was some reason he was not doing it. She unraveled herself from its enveloping embrace and tossed it to the ground. "I'm leaving."  
  
Draco blinked and shook his head. "N-no, you aren't, you-you-you aren't that stupid!"  
  
"Like you can stop me," said Hermione, feeling the daggers of cold prickling her exposed arms. "I'm going back."  
  
Draco struggled up to his feet, his wand in his hand. "I-I, can, sto- "  
  
Hermione calmly plucked the wand out of his grasp, for the boy was powerless to hold it in his weak fingertips. "Thank you."  
  
"Doh," said Draco, slumping to the ground and against the cave wall.  
  
Hermione, feeling the hand of winter groping her spin, lifted the blanket from the ground and sat next to Draco. She put the blanket around them both, drawing them much closer together than Hermione ever cared to be.  
  
"A-a word of thi-this to anyone, and I wi-will," Draco trailed off as he begrudgingly accepted Hermione's close proximity to him.  
  
"Well," said Hermione, feeling comfortably warm next to Draco, if not uncomfortably queasy. "You obviously won't kill me,"  
  
An uneasy pause passed between the two until Hermione picked up the slack.  
  
"I always pictured you as the type who, knew what they were doing," she began, as if trying to put the words delicately.  
  
Draco turned his head toward her, barely less than a foot was between their faces. From this close, Draco no longer possessed that creature of the night motif Hermione had noticed before. His pale face stood out pronouncedly from the darkness around them, showing him to be little more than a scared fifteen-year-old boy, and not the ruthless monster Hermione had always thought him to be.  
  
"I know what I'm doing," said Draco at last, the shiver having been taken from his voice. "I just happened to forget warm clothing and a blanket."  
  
Hermione shook her head. "You are the best Potions student in the fifth year class," said Hermione truthfully. "Little details like that don't just 'slip your mind.'"  
  
Draco snorted and turned away from her, but he could not evade her, not being this close to her.  
  
"My mind was on other things," said Draco coolly.  
  
Hermione looked at Draco with her hard 'I-know-you-aren't-telling-me- something' glare. "Your father put you up to this whole thing, didn't he?"  
  
Malfoy looked back to Hermione and locked eyes with her, peering into her soul, as if trying to find something that he was not sure existed within. She had often locked eyes with Sean and had felt this same sort of feeling. He often looked beyond her, as if she were a clear, see-through pane of glass. It made her feel naked, yet intrigued all at once. The same sort of feeling was present with Draco, for she knew he was looking through her, and while she did indeed feel naked, there was no trace of the warm pleasantness she had felt with Sean. Instead, Draco's stare seemed more invasive and awkward.  
  
"No," said Draco at last. "My father told me what I needed to do," he continued. "It was my choice on how to do it."  
  
Hermione maintained her lock on Draco's eyes, despite the unpleasantness of his gaze. She would not back away from him now.  
  
"Then, why are you ashamed?" she asked.  
  
Draco licked his lips with a nervous sort of tension. "Because," said Draco. "Once this task is complete and Voldemort rises to a new level of power should Narhassa fall into his hands, I will be made a Deatheater."  
  
Hermione curled her upper lip. "Isn't that what you've always wanted?"  
  
"Yeah," said Draco, with a shrug.  
  
"Then, I fail to see your conflictions," snapped Hermione, still maintaining a painful stare upon Draco's face.  
  
"It's what I've always wanted, until now," said Draco firmly, and to Hermione's delight, he severed their eye contact, looking away.  
  
Hermione was completely stunned at first. What was he trying to say?  
  
"All my life," said Draco softly, looking toward the cave entrance where bright white flurries of snow were visible in the moonlight, "I wanted to do something that would change the world."  
  
Hermione stunned expression did not faltered, as the words simply did not come to her mouth.  
  
"My father knew this and, well, he encouraged it," he continued, his voice nearly lost to the howling of wind outside. "When I was a child, before Hogwarts, he always found the time to help me live these fantasies." A trace of a smile appeared on Draco's face. "One day, I came to him and told him I wanted to be like Robin Hood one day, he sent me off to archery camp that summer, just to make me happy."  
  
"This doesn't sound like the Lucius Malfoy I know," said Hermione crisply, almost regretting the words as soon as they came off her tongue.  
  
Yet, Draco ignored them.  
  
"He sent me away to fencing camp when I said I wanted to be a knight, he fostered my dreams and made them real, until the age of ten."  
  
"What happened then?" asked Hermione, scarcely able to believe she was interested in Draco Malfoy's past.  
  
"He told me that once a Malfoy's age reaches double digits," he said in a patronizing voice. "He told me I would never be Robin Hood, I would never be a knight, unless I made it happen."  
  
Hermione winced as he continued.  
  
"He told me that dreams, like the ones I had been raised on, are fickle little things, and that if I wanted to realize them, to be complete again, I would have to work for them," he spoke, his pointed face seeming indifferent to the words coming out of his mouth.  
  
"And so," said Draco calmly. "He introduced me to Crabbe and Goyle, two sons of fellow Deatheaters. He told me it was my charge to make sure they got through Hogwarts and graduated. I was to never leave their side."  
  
"So, that is how your little group got together," said Hermione with a slight smile. "Malfoy, the merciful helper."  
  
Draco frowned wryly. "That's not to say I did not like it," he said. "While the two of them are stupider than half-giants after ten pints of guinness, they are loyal, cruel and excessive. My father was quick to tell me that, in exchange for what they needed, they would pledge their loyalty to me. And they did."  
  
Hermione nodded, this story making enough sense in her mind.  
  
"And so, when Voldemort rose last year, my father explained it in the exact same terms. In exchange for my pledge of loyalty to him, Voldemort would make sure all of my dreams would come true. By getting Crabbe and Goyle through Hogwarts, I will make their dreams come true, and they will give me their loyalty."  
  
The girl sighed. "Draco, Voldemort isn't going to make your dreams come true."  
  
Draco looked at her with sincerity written in his gray pupils. "Tell me something I don't know. When I had Crabbe and Goyle put you down in this cave, away from everything, that is when I knew this was for real. I could no longer be Robin Hood, instead, I feel like the Sheriff of Nottingham, I will no longer be a knight; just a blackguard."  
  
Hermione swallowed a rising lump in her throat, despite her own revolution. She was actually feeling sympathy for this creep?  
  
"My dreams will never come true," he said dourly. "And I've been forced to accept that."  
  
"But," began Hermione.  
  
"Now, the whole deal with Voldemort doesn't seem so good," he continued. "I pledged my loyalty, but what am I going to get in return?"  
  
Hermione glared at Draco. "If that's how you feel, then what are you doing, giving away the only weapon that can stop him!"  
  
A heavy tension passed between the two of them as Draco heaved a sigh.  
  
"I don't know, and that's what is making me ashamed," he said at last.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Hey," said Draco's voice, breaking the tension of the frigid night. Hermione had fallen into a tired trance as the hours had slipped by. Outside, the flurries had stopped and the wind had died down. It was clear that sleep was not coming to either wizard this night. "Are you still awake?"  
  
Hermione, over the course of the last few hours had begrudgingly taken to leaning upon Draco for both warmth and support. To her dismay, she found that her head had been resting on his shoulder, without her even realizing it.  
  
"How could I possibly sleep?" said Hermione angrily. "You are single- handedly responsible for the worst night of my life, yet I'm forced to be this close to you out of desire to survive."  
  
"Fair enough," said Draco sarcastically. "Look, for what its worth, I'm sorry. Ok?"  
  
"Do not resuscitate me," said Hermione with one of her feminine grunts. "If you apologized, that means I've just frozen to death, and I'm going to that place in the sky with all the attractive guys."  
  
"Cute," muttered Draco. Hermione could almost hear him rolling his eyes. "It's almost over. The sun will be rising shortly."  
  
Hermione blinked the fatigue out of her eyes. "Let me ask you a question," she began. "If you had the choice, you know, between good and evil,"  
  
"You want me to choose between you and Voldemort?" Draco asked slyly.  
  
Hermione felt she had been slapped. "Heck no!" she spluttered. "Look, just because I didn't want to let you die does not mean I feel anything but contempt for you!"  
  
Draco smirked in the darkness humming annoyingly. "Hmm, you were holding me pretty tight. I've been held by many girls before, and yes, that was tight."  
  
Hermione glared at him in the darkness. "I was trying to absorb the heat energy that is emanating from your useless hide."  
  
Malfoy considered this for a moment, blowing some icy smoke from his lungs.  
  
"Nah, you want me and you know it."  
  
Hermione curled her lip. She was not going to loose this battle of willpower to Malfoy, especially after saving his life. To spite him, she rested her head back on his shoulder.  
  
"That's right," she said angrily. "Get hot under the collar. You will produce more heat that way."  
  
"I'm hot all over," said Draco loftily. "Your presence is irrelevant."  
  
"Mmm," said Hermione, stifling a yawn. "Maybe you should keep dreaming, Robin Hood."  
  
Draco chuckled slightly, not the cold, hard, malicious chuckle of Malfoy, but a chuckle of humility that she had never heard from him before. Without preamble or hesitation, he put his arm around Hermione.  
  
"And what is that unscrupulous detachment of your body doing around my shoulders?" demanded Hermione, staring up at Draco lividly.  
  
Draco glared down at her, his mirth fading quickly. "If you want to use one of my shoulders, it will cost you two of yours. Call it Pureblood/Mudblood ratio."  
  
Hermione shrugged immaturely, and accepted Draco's arm. "Oh, that's original. I would tell you to go drown yourself in a snow bank, but I need your body heat."  
  
Despite how much Hermione told herself that Draco Malfoy's arm around her was like being constricted by a boa, she could not help but find comfort in this position. And, amazingly enough, sleep was soon to follow as she (there was only one word to describe it) snuggled against Draco.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
The floor, suddenly rushing up to meet her, awakened Hermione with a start. Lacking much grace, Hermione landed upon the stony floor of the cave with a grunt.  
  
"Rise and shine," said Malfoy, leaning over her slyly. Apparently, he had suddenly stood, ridding Hermione of his arm and his presence at the same time.  
  
"Prat," muttered Hermione as willed a strange dream, involving Draco running from a Hungarian Horntail ridden by Ron, out of her mind. It must have been her idea of what Ron's reaction would be if she ever found out how close Draco and her had been that night.  
  
"Come on," said Draco, offering his hand to her.  
  
Hermione looked at it for a moment, and stood, without his help.  
  
Draco withdrew his hand with a smirk. "Still not smitten by me?"  
  
"Go kiss a cobra," muttered Hermione, as she began to work out the cramps in her legs and lower back.  
  
Draco smirked and withdrew a comb from his robe, as well as a small vanity mirror.  
  
"Yes," said Draco firmly, looking into the mirror as he worked on his hair. "Despite Mudblood contamination, I am still a sexy beast."  
  
"You have the beast part right," snapped Hermione. "Wouldn't bet the other parts, though."  
  
"Ugh," said Draco as he withdrew two mints from the front pocket of his robe. "Your breath stinks, quick, save the planet and suck on this."  
  
Draco flipped one of the mints over to Hermione and popped the second into his mouth. She was as close to slapping him as she had been the entire time, but amazingly, she held her cool.  
  
"Oh yeah," said Draco, withdrawing Hermione's wand from yet another pocket in his robe. "Your wand isn't going to do me much good, and you have mine. How about a trade?"  
  
Hermione withdrew the wand she had taken from Draco last night and handed it over to him without much concern. Draco handed hers back, without a thought.  
  
And suddenly, both froze.  
  
Hermione looked at Draco, for now she had the power to repay everything he had just done to her. She could curse him so badly for their night together and make sure he'd have so sort of permanent reminder.  
  
And Draco could once again subdue her and bring her under his every whim once again. Both wizards locked eyes with each other, yet, there was no trace of competition within Draco's eyes.  
  
Hermione lowered her wand first, putting it into the folds of her robe. She refused to comment on this situation, but Draco also lowered his, apparently sharing an unspoken exchange with Hermione.  
  
And without much further adieu, Draco lead them out of the icy cave, a backpack slung lazily over his shoulders, holding his blanket and cooking pan. Despite the cold temperature, there was a light fog that obscured far- reaching vision in the forest. They were apparently not as deep in the forest as Draco lied, for the trees were fairly sparse.  
  
Draco took the lead by about five feet, leading them through the newly fallen snow. Hermione followed behind, stepping in his footsteps to avoid the few inches of snow that had fallen last night. Apparently, the cave they had been staying in was little more than a pile of rocks that led underground into the small chamber in which they had stayed for the better part of fourteen hours.  
  
"You aren't truly going to go through with this deal, are you?" demanded Hermione as they walked through the forest.  
  
Draco nodded and looked back at her for a second, before continuing forward. "Of course I am."  
  
"After all of your bold words, you are still going to betray me?" asked Hermione. "Look, Draco, let's just go back to Hogwarts. I won't tell them what you did and I'll force Ron and Harry to secrecy, ok?"  
  
Draco scoffed, and didn't even turn around. "Granger, you think we bonded last night or something? You think I'm more human now that you've touched me, held me and snuggled against me for seven hours?"  
  
Hermione's face became stony. "I guess not. I had hoped though."  
  
Draco rolled his eyes as he pushed a branch out of his way. "You waste hope on me, Granger, and in this sodding world, it is not to be distributed lightly."  
  
"I guess you are your father's pet," said Hermione sharply. "Keep jumping through enough of his hoops, and maybe you'll get a treat."  
  
Draco whirled around, pointing a finger at Hermione angrily. "That's enough, Mudblood. I'm a patient guy, but no sleep and freezing cold tends to make me rather erratic. "  
  
Hermione fell silent for the rest of their trip.  
  
Finally, their destination came into sight, a clearing about a mile away from Hogwarts, by Hermione's best guess. She thought it looked familiar, as her extremely skillful long-term memory remembered a clearing from her first year, when she traveled into the woods with Hagrid.  
  
And within the clearing, stood a very concerned looking Ron Weasley, who was spinning every which way. In his left hand, the Sorting Hat dangled by its hood.  
  
"Malfoy!" he shouted desperately, "Where are you?"  
  
Draco turned around and looked to Hermione, holding his wand to her. "Go out, take the Sorting Hat, and bring it back to me."  
  
Hermione sighed and, desiring for this to be over, walked out onto the clearing.  
  
"Hermione!" shouted Ron, as he rushed over to her and lifted her off the ground in a massive embrace. "Are you hurt? What happened? Did he do anything? Where is he?"  
  
"Can't, breathe," stated Hermione.  
  
"Oh, sorry," said Ron, hugging her with less firmness, but the same passion. "I was so scared."  
  
"It's fine, Ron," said Hermione softly. "I need to bring Malfoy the Sorting Hat, he has a wand pointed at both of us."  
  
Ron looked around angrily. "Where is he?" he roared.  
  
"Ron," said Hermione cautiously. "Now is not the time for heroics, please."  
  
"It's fine," said a voice from the direction Hermione had just come from as Draco Malfoy stepped out from behind the tree. "I don't hide from people, let alone weasels."  
  
Before Ron could retort, Malfoy curled his lips up slyly. "Draw the sword of Gryffindor from the hat."  
  
Ron hastily complied, seeing Malfoy's wand trained on him. He reached his hand in, and a moment later, the shimmering white sword was produced from within. Ron then placed it back into the hat.  
  
"Good," said Draco smartly. "How'd you manage to get it?"  
  
"I went into Dumbledore's Office early this morning and took it," said Ron shamefully. "Before he was there, he is very trusting you know; He'll probably never be again, thanks to a scumbag like you."  
  
"Now, now, Weasley, don't provoke me," said Draco, waving his wand, chastising. "Throw it here."  
  
Ron angrily tossed the Sorting Hat to Draco, barely making it halfway to him. Draco swished his wand in the air as it landed upon the snow.  
  
"Accio, Sorting Hat!" said Draco, as the hat flew the rest of the distance to him and landed in his free hand. "Thanks Weasley, you've done well."  
  
Yet, before he could retreat back to the woods, Malfoy felt a sturdy object pressed to the back of his head, a pointy, wooden one. He was amazed at the person's stealthy foot and concealment, for he did not consider himself all that easy to sneak up on. He turned his head around to see who it was, but saw nothing more than a disembodied hand with a wand aimed at him. His archrival removed his Invisibility Cloak, showing how he snooped up behind Draco easily. Malfoy froze, as he held his own wand tightly pointed at Ron, and very much not at his new enemy.  
  
"I should have suspected," said Draco. "Weasley would not try a thing without you holding his leash." Draco resumed his forward position, Potter's wand directly behind his head.  
  
Harry glowered at Draco, his emerald green eyes flaring over with bridled, controlled rage.  
  
"Sneak attacking my two best friends, kidnapping one of them, and stabbing me in the back," he said softly, in his calm 'I-think-killing-you-might-not- be-a-bad-idea' voice. "What am I going to do with you, Draco Malfoy?"  
  
Malfoy shrugged, a smirk upon his face as he subtly turned his wand backwards between his fingertips, facing Harry's chest, directly behind him. Harry did not see this action, for Malfoy's body was in the way.  
  
"Harry," said Hermione, looking over to Malfoy and Harry. "Don't hurt him, please! He's caught."  
  
Harry looked back to Hermione, his voice very calm in place of his controlled anger. "Can I just hurt him... a little bit? I mean, after all he has done, I think he needs a bit more than a slap on the wrist!"  
  
Malfoy smirked slyly at Harry, angling his wand into alignment with his arch nemesis' chest, while he was speaking to Hermione.  
  
"Do what you have to do, Potter."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Next Chapter: I think we are pretty much set up for a fight here, eh? But, I'm keeping my mouth shut on that point. The next chapter will take us up to the day of December 1st and Ben Nevis, so expect a bit of substance to it.  
  
I hope you all didn't mind a quick Draco/Hermione subplot here. I know I didn't have to spend so much time on it, but, I had a blast writing it even if it really could be almost a stand-alone chapter without too much plot development. Could it be that Hermione has taken a fancy to Draco? She defended him in the last scene. Does Ron have another obstacle in the way of having Hermione? Stay Tuned. 


	21. The Final Stretch

Chapter 21: The Final Stretch  
  
Both wizards shouted at each other at the same time, their words becoming an incomprehensible jumble of sound. Hermione squinted against the glaring morning sun and saw that one of the boys had fallen over, his wand several feet to his left, and the other was of, sprinting into the woods.  
  
Ron had reacted sooner than Hermione, realizing that it was Harry who had been blasted by the disarming spell before he was able to get his spell off.  
  
"Fiacco!" cried Ron, as a blast of blue shot forth from his wand  
  
Hermione, through the morning glare, could make out Malfoy diving behind a snow bank, as the blue ray of a Slowing Charm slammed into it and fizzled out of existence. And then, Malfoy was up, shouting loudly.  
  
"Accio Nimbus 2001!"  
  
The pale boy continued sprinting as Ron followed, leaping atop a fallen tree and dropping to a knee, with careful aim.  
  
"Effetto!" shouted Ron as he continued to cast upon the fleeing form of Draco. Hermione chased Ron, her wand drawn, but no spells forthcoming.  
  
Malfoy attempted to dodge to the side as he waited for his broom. Ron's well-aimed Force Charm spell caught him in the shoulder. Malfoy was shoved violently and propelled across the snowy ground nearly twenty feet, narrowly avoiding about a dozen trees. To Malfoy's fortune, a nasty, dropping slope took over where Ron's spell ended, sending Draco rolling down nearly twenty more feet, and out of Hermione's sight.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
A tree stopped Draco's forward motion abruptly and painfully. Behind him, a faint trail of blood was visible in the pearly white snow. He gently touched the side of his stinging face with a shaking hand. As he pulled his finger away, he saw droplets of steaming blood upon his pale fingers.  
  
"Ugh," snarled Draco, as he willed himself to his feet.  
  
Malfoy glanced around with panic, but thankfully, the Sorting Hat was still to the left of him, just within reach. He grabbed it again within his free hand and began to move.  
  
Sliding across the icy, rough snow had taken a toll on him, for while the desire to keep on moving was there, his body simply could not comply with the same vigor. He limped slowly forward, but was not out of sight before he heard the sounds of Ron beginning another spell, from atop the steep slope. Draco quickly threw himself behind a tree as a large explosion of force shot up ice crystals from the ground next to him.  
  
That's it, Weasley, snapped Draco, pressing himself forcefully against a tree. He twirled the wand between his fingertips, still possessing fair dexterity, despite his battered state. Taking a chance, Draco charged himself a glance up the slope, spotting the tall, red-haired boy like a pillar of fire, standing out from the snowy landscape. Ron had made no move to try and descend the slope, instead choosing to aim his next spell. Draco pulled his head behind the tree just in time to narrowly avoid Ron's spell, a second Slowing Charm that would have insured victory. Instead, it hit the ground next to him, fizzling out with a hiss.  
  
"Try this on for size, Weasel," muttered Draco, as he stepped out from behind the tree and quickly took aim. "Riscaldare!"  
  
A blast of red energy, the color of Ron's hair, streaked forth from Draco's wand, directly at the lanky boy's feet. Ron was quick enough to react and leap backwards, however, Draco's aim seemed to be off. It struck the snowy ground right beneath his feet, causing Ron to laugh haughtly.  
  
"You don't have anything, Malfoy!" shouted Ron arrogantly, taking aim again as Draco ducked back behind the tree.  
  
Draco smirked and poked his head out teasingly. "Guess again, moron!"  
  
The Heating Charm had taken ahold of the ground beneath Ron, turning it from solid, rough ice, to wet, slippery smooth slush. Ron, now realizing his predicament, tried to back away from the edge of the slope, now seeing Draco's intention. This move, however, cost him his balance. His feet slipped on the fresh, now smooth ice and flew out from underneath him. Without any traction, Ron was sent careening down the slope, right towards Draco.  
  
Ron spun head over heels, somersaulting down the gradual drop, causing even Draco to wince. With a thud, Ron collided into the tree Draco happened to be hiding behind, groaning audibly. Draco stepped out from behind the tree, pried Ron's wand out from under his body, and tossed it into a nearby evergreen tree.  
  
"You just can't win, can you Weasel?" clucked Draco snidely, as he held his wand over Ron.  
  
Ron, being much taller and much less flexible than Draco, had taken much more damage from his tumble than Draco did. His lips and chin were bleeding, and he sported many scrapes upon his arms. It also appeared that one of his legs was either fractured or dislocated.  
  
The red-haired boy groaned in pain, grabbing his leg with shocked hands. "You, you better, not have done anything to her,"  
  
Draco looked at Ron and was about to speak, when his Nimbus 2001 shot over the trees and descended down to him.  
  
"Looks like my ride is here," said Draco calmly. "And no, Weasley, I took good care of her." For added insult, he leaned forward. "Real good care of her, if you get my meaning."  
  
Draco laughed evilly as Ron tried to kick him with his good leg. The seeker was too quick for him as he leapt back out of range. He calmly opened his backpack and prepared to put the Sorting Hat within.  
  
And then, he heard it.  
  
"Stupefy!"  
  
It was only blind luck that saved Draco as Harry's spell nicked a branch of the tree above him, sending it off track and firmly into the ground next to the pale-failed boy. A quick glance above his head showed him all that he needed to see, Harry was airborne above his head, atop his Firebolt, with his wand extended.  
  
"Oh, it is just raining Gryffindors in the forest today!" growled Malfoy as he threw the Sorting Hat into his opened backpack and aligned his wand into the air. "Stupefy!"  
  
Draco might as well have been trying to hit a fly with a toothpick, for Harry was quick to dodge the spell on top of his broom as he came about, decreasing in altitude and panning around the branches to line up a clean shot at Draco.  
  
With all intension of fleeing, Draco hopped on his own broom and prepared to push off the ground. Yet, to his surprise, while his broom was more than eager to lift off, his left leg desired not to. Ron had crawled quickly upon the ground and was forcibly holding Draco in place.  
  
"I've got em, Harry!" cried Ron.  
  
Draco scowled at Ron and planted the heel of his other foot into the boy's face, causing him to swoon and release his leg. With an indignant grunt, Draco lifted off, just in time to avoid another Stunning Charm.  
  
Draco came about, shooting into the air, with Harry in hot pursuit, upon his overall faster and better Firebolt.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Harry urged his broom forward with one hand and held his wand out, taking aim at Draco's swerving back.  
  
"Do it," said a voice within his head, perhaps Harry's own inner devil. "Stop him using any means necessary!"  
  
Harry grit his teeth. "Stupefy!"  
  
Draco swerved to the right in the sky above, cursing loudly as the spell that would have crippled him and sent him spiraling down to the ground one-hundred and fifty feet beneath them narrowly missed.  
  
No! said Harry, forcing himself to lower his wand. I am better than this! I will not kill him!  
  
Harry felt suddenly conflicted. If he could not catch Draco, if he got the Sorting Hat back to his father, undoubtedly where he was heading now, it would be all over. They would be powerless to fight Voldemort or Redetyor, whoever took the power of Narhassa for their own first.  
  
It was then that an idea popped into his head. He began to feel better at once, knowing that his own good spirit was in the driver's seat again.  
  
I won't kill Malfoy, decided Harry. But I'll make him think I am trying to!  
  
Harry nodded firmly and lined up another shot, aiming to miss Draco by ten feet. If he could force Malfoy to make a desperate move, perhaps he'd wipe out on his own, or even surrender.  
  
It was a risk Harry felt he needed to take.  
  
"Stupefy!" exclaimed Harry, as a purple blast of energy shot past Malfoy to his right. Draco looked back over his shoulders, pure panic written on his face as he slowed his forward motion.  
  
"Stupefy!" cried Harry, aiming this time for the other side of Draco.  
  
And suddenly, Draco did something Harry did not expect, he slammed his broom handle down and shot downward like a falling arrow, likely a move borne out of desperation, for Draco knew he could not outrun Harry on his Firebolt. He sped at lightning speed toward the canopy beneath them.  
  
Trying the Wronski Feint, Malfoy? Asked Harry mentally, as he dove after Malfoy, spiraling toward the rapidly approaching evergreens. I'm game.  
  
Draco disappeared beneath the blanket of green in the forest as Harry trailed him closely, zigzagging in between thick branches and plowing somewhat painfully through twigs.  
  
On second thought, began Harry as he held up his wand hand defensively to block his face from stray pine needles. This might have been a bad idea!  
  
Harry lifted the handle of his broom just in time to avoid the ground. A quick glance to his North spied Malfoy zooming in between the thick trees, not looking back to see if Harry was still following him. It was clear that, should he chance looking back, he would be just as likely to slam head-on into a tree.  
  
What is he doing? Thought Harry, as he took off after him. He's going to get himself killed!  
  
Harry decreased his speed, for despite his own flying prowess, he was not comfortable ripping through the thick forest at nearly fifty miles per hour. Malfoy had done so as well, zigging and zagging in between trees, trying desperately to escape his seemingly bloodthirsty pursuer.  
  
Malfoy zoomed harshly to the left, threading himself in between two birch trees in a daring move.  
  
This isn't going to happen, decided Harry. He may have nothing to loose, but I have friends! If I keep following him this way, one of us will get killed."  
  
With that, Harry lifted further into the air, brushing through the treeline again.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Malfoy chanced a terrified look back, but could not spot his pursuer.  
  
"Oh thank whoever is listening up there," exclaimed Malfoy as he slowed his speed to a reasonable cruising speed. "He, he was trying to kill me!"  
  
Malfoy considered that for a moment, but then shrugged. "I suppose if I were in his shoes, I'd be trying to kill me too,"  
  
A brook had opened up in front of him, a thankful reprieve from the never ending lines of trees threatening to crush him should he slam headlong into one. He calmly turned his broom east, speeding above the creek, bringing him closer to home.  
  
"Thank the maker that this nightmare is finally over!"  
  
Malfoy was suddenly slammed to the side as Harry sideswiped him from out of nowhere, shoving Malfoy over fifteen feet and barely keeping him upon his broom. It was clear now that Harry had deceived him into slowing down by taking the high route.  
  
"Fuckin A!" shouted Malfoy, as he drew his wand. "You are just a sod that won't flush down the john, aren't you?" he roared, as he pointed his wand awkwardly at Harry, using his other hand to keep his balance on the broom. "Stupefy!"  
  
Harry slammed into Malfoy's side again as he flew parallel to him, causing his wand to shutter and for his spell to fly a few inches in front of Harry.  
  
"Stop moving, Malfoy!" shouted Harry as they both picked up pacing, zooming downriver, side-by-side.  
  
Malfoy glared at Harry as the wind ripped wildly through his hair. "Yeah sure! How's this?"  
  
Malfoy pulled his broom to the side, slamming into Harry roughly. Unfortunately for Malfoy, Harry had been thinking the same strategy, and both boys collided fiercely into each other, causing them both to gasp in pain, though Harry was crying out loudly.  
  
It was sheer luck that Malfoy's wand happened to be pointed head- level with Harry, after he had realigned it for a new spell. And, it was horrible luck for Harry that Malfoy's wand caught him in the eye during the massive collusion with enough force to shatter one of the lenses. The Boy Who Lived screamed, grabbing his eye with so much agony written on his face that it stopped Malfoy dead in his tracks. Without two hands for balance on his broom, Harry toppled off his Firebolt, slapping loudly into the shallow stream thirty feet below.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Ah," hissed Voldemort loudly, "Lucius, your prodigal son returns, he is approaching the Manner as we speak."  
  
Voldemort was sitting upon the same, soft recliner within the hall in Malfoy Manner. This time, however, Harry noticed that Nagini was nowhere to be seen.  
  
Lucius Malfoy's face was drawn into a scowl. He was apparently out of breath as he took deep, labored gasped of air. It was possible that he had just run into the room a moment ago.  
  
"The fool managed to get himself expelled from Hogwarts, and even the Ministry of Magic is looking for him, as a criminal! If he is seen here, I could be sent to Azkaban for harboring him! I received all of this by owl five minutes ago." Lucius swore angrily. "When he gets back, I am going to kill him myself!"  
  
"You did tell him 'any means necessary'," offered Voldemort slyly. "You see, Lucius, your son has just risked everything for my cause,"  
  
Voldemort's expression suddenly became stern, and Harry groaned in pain as his scar exploded with pain.  
  
", something I have never seen you do. So, you will shut that wretched hole in your face before I deem you a fitting snack for Nagini."  
  
Lucius immediately dropped to his knees as an explosion of panic crossed his face. He clutched Voldemort's robes pathetically. "Forgive me, my master. Please forgive me."  
  
"I believe, when your son returns, he will be made official," trailed off Voldemort, ignoring Lucius like a spec of dust. "I will complete his education, now that Hogwarts has shunned him. You see, Lucius, Lord Voldemort rewards loyalty in his subjects."  
  
Lucius looked up at Voldemort, his eyes wide. "What,?"  
  
"As you once so eloquently wrote to your son, now, I will dictate the same sentiments to you," began Voldemort, his swirling red eyes glaring. "It is time for you to do your duty to the Dark Lord."  
  
"Anything," groveled Lucius, still upon his knees.  
  
Voldemort sneered and put his hand upon Lucius' head. "You will turn your only begotten son over to me. I will complete his rearing, in time he will call me Father. And when he becomes of age, he will take his place by my side, and you too will call him Master."  
  
Lucius bit his lip with fury, his pale cheeks becoming flushed with red.  
  
"Are you ready to do your duty to the Dark Lord?" repeated Voldemort coldly.  
  
"Please, my Lord," begged Lucius, never before sounding so fragile and defeated. "Ask me to cut my hand off as you did Wormtail, ask me to harbor you forever within my home, do not ask me for my only son. I, cannot give him to you."  
  
"I will be needing a new simulacrum when I dispose of Redetyor," said Voldemort nastily. "You know that Draco has been prepared from infancy to accept this burden, in case something, unforeseen happened to the Redetyor boy. All he is missing is one final spell, and he will feed me in case of trouble again."  
  
"That was then," said Lucius, still clutching Voldemort's robes like a child pleading to his mother. "I was young, and foolish. Please, don't take Draco from me, he's my son!"  
  
Voldemort scowled at Lucius. "Am I sensing mutiny?"  
  
"No!" countered Lucius. "Let me prepare you another child, I work at the Ministry, I can find you another, just please, not Draco! Have mercy, my Lord!"  
  
Voldemort licked his lips cruelly.  
  
"Perhaps you are not ready to do your duty, and need some encouragement. Where is that lovely wife of yours?"  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"You seem to be spending more time in the hospital wing than in class!" clucked Madam Pomfrey agitatedly as she stormed back to her office, after inspecting over Harry. "You'll need to stay overnight so I can fix up that eye of yours."  
  
Harry's eyes fluttered open with a start, pulling him forcefully out of Malfoy Manner, and back to his cot in the hospital wing. He sighed and laid back deeply into his pillow, a moan escaping from his lips.  
  
Ron was still fuming, sitting upright in the next bed over with a splint over his leg and a bandage over his nose, where Malfoy had kicked him with all his might.  
  
"When I get my hands on that pasty little prat," he snarled, punching his right hand into his left fist angrily.  
  
Harry was bruised painfully from his fall to the water, and a white bandage covered his right eye. The injured boy did not even want to know how bad his eye was, or whether it had been replaced outright or not. He had fallen unconscious before he knew exactly how bad Malfoy had jabbed it, but it had been bleeding. The last thing he remembered was hitting the water.  
  
Hermione had told him that she had found him on the shore of the brook, lying in a recovery position, with a shred of green blanket wrapped around his head, over his eye. Harry hated to speculate that Malfoy had helped him, but he could find no other feasible solution as to why he hadn't drowned.  
  
The doors to the hospital flew asunder as Hermione entered briskly, a look of pure worry written upon her brow.  
  
"Hermione," said Harry, staring at her with his only functioning eye.  
  
Hermione looked down at Harry. "Are you alright?" she asked, pulling up a chair and caressing his head with tender concern.  
  
"I feel like my eye was poked out by a lance," he muttered. "We need to tell Dumbledore what happened."  
  
"I've already taken care of it," she said calmly, rubbing his head. "Malfoy has been expelled."  
  
While these were words Harry would have loved to hear anytime before this, they just seemed so meaningless now. Malfoy had won; being expelled now was of such a little consequence.  
  
"Also," continued Hermione, with a trace of sadness in her voice. "The Ministry of Magic has put out a search warrant for him, if he is caught, he will be tried for possible Azkaban time," she lowered her eyes. "The charges are kidnapping, assault, underage use of magic outside of school, and grand theft of a priceless artifact."  
  
Ron sat back smartly, for the first time in weeks, smiling. "I've died and gone to heaven."  
  
Harry could not help but frown. Remembering his figment from his unconsciousness, he knew the sinister truth. He knew that the Ministry would never find Draco and his education would continue with one on one lessons from the Dark Lord himself. He would become a wizard as dark as Voldemort,  
  
, yet, hauling an unconscious enemy out of a stream and caring for his wounds hardly seemed like the actions of a dark wizard.  
  
"Alright," said Harry. "Malfoy is out of the picture, it is safe to assume that he's back at Malfoy Manner, hidden away safely by his father."  
  
Hermione and Ron both nodded.  
  
"Where does this leave us?" asked Harry.  
  
Hermione pulled out a small calendar from her pocket. "Today is the , twenty fourth," she said calmly. "Thirty days has November, ugh," she said. "Only one week left."  
  
"Then, it's crunch time," said Harry firmly. "Redetyor is not backing down, he will be at the peak of Ben Nevis the night of December 1st, after having distracted the school long enough for him and his most willful followers to escape. The rebellion idea concerning the third years won't happen, but Neville Longbottom is going to be the key his distraction, whatever it will be. He is going to let something into the Gryffindor common room."  
  
"Neville?" exclaimed Ron.  
  
Harry nodded. "He's been duped into working for Redetyor,"  
  
"Can't we just talk to him?" cried Hermione.  
  
"And if that fails," said Harry, "He'll tell Redetyor, and he'll change the plan. I think it is better if we let Neville make his move first, then stop him."  
  
Ron nodded from his own bed. "Agreed."  
  
Harry turned to look at Hermione with his eye. "Hermione, let's take a lesson from Malfoy here, they used lightning bolts and Hemophilia hexes upon him, nearly killing him. While we are out of commission, can you go to Lupin and see if he knows the counter curses for those spells?" Harry lowered his head. "We will need them if we run into Redetyor."  
  
Hermione nodded. "I can do that, Harry, though why don't we do that tomorrow, when you are healthy. Tonight, I'll check the library's Restricted Section, if I can borrow your cloak."  
  
Harry nodded. "Ok Hermione. I'll trust your judgment there." Harry then turned his green eye to Ron  
  
"You and me," said Harry, looking desperately to his best friend, who nodded without a word.  
  
"I know what you are going to say," said Ron. "We need to find another weapon that can be used to fight , this Narhassa. We cannot use Gryffindor's sword, but there has to be something else!"  
  
"Also," said Harry, trailing off. "You and Hermione should practice your Patronus Summoning, I suspect dementors will also be at Ben Nevis."  
  
"How do you figure?" asked Ron, with a nervous twitch.  
  
"A hunch," said Harry slowly, shaking his head. "While unconscious before, I had visions of Voldemort, meeting with Lucius Malfoy. They said something about their guy in the Ministry smuggling over dementors from Iraq."  
  
Ron winced. "Blimey, Seth has no idea what he is getting himself into!"  
  
Hermione tapped her foot upon the ground in careful consideration. "I do not like this, very rarely do we have all the information before something comes crashing down on our heads; we are always unpleasantly surprised. Here, it seems like we know everything and are free to choose who to side with."  
  
Harry sighed. "It is like I am removed from this whole, messy situation. I can see what Seth is doing, and I can see what Voldemort is doing to thwart Seth, and both seem to underestimate each other to a pathetic extent."  
  
"What are you thinking then, Harry?" asked Ron as he adjusted his leg painfully.  
  
Harry smirked slightly as he adjusted the white patch over his eye. "First, you and me need to get out of here tomorrow."  
  
"What about," began Ron, "could we, raid Malfoy Manner and try to steal the sword back from Draco?"  
  
Harry shook his head, dismissing the notion at once. "Voldemort safeguards the sword of Gryffindor now, for Draco brought it to him." With a sigh, he fell back into his pillows. "The sword is out of the equation."  
  
Ron glared at his leg coldly. "All I want is Malfoy, one on one, without magic."  
  
"Keep wanting," said Hermione shrewdly.  
  
Madam Pomfrey, entering the room once again in her hospital robes, cut off further conversation. With her large, plump hands, she began shooing away Hermione.  
  
"The boys need rest now. Out with you."  
  
Hermione kissed Harry upon the cheek quickly as Madam Pomfrey ducked into a closet, to pull out some fresh bandages for Harry's eye. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said hastily.  
  
She turned to Ron, and looked down on him a bit hesitantly.  
  
Harry noticed this, and licked his lips with amusement.  
  
She bowed down and kissed Ron on the cheek as well.  
  
"You too, ok?" she said softly.  
  
Ron looked up at her, "Ok," he replied shyly.  
  
Hermione laughed and pushed a bang of his curly red hair out of his eyes. To Harry's amazement, he caught Hermione's hand and kissed it softly.  
  
"I'm so relieved you are safe, still," he said quietly, his voice not much above a murmur. "I, couldn't sleep last night."  
  
Hermione blushed and blinked her eyes slowly. She leaned over to him and whispered in his ear. "It means so much to me that you care that much,"  
  
Despite the whisper, Harry could still make out the words. Kiss her, you stubborn, naïve prat, willed Harry mentally.  
  
Yet, Ron, the complete opposite of a romantic to the end, missed his opportunity as he smiled at Hermione and rubbed her chin with a brush of his finger.  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow," said Hermione, with a smile as she hurried out of the room.  
  
Once Hermione left the hospital wing, and the door clicked shut behind her, Ron closed his eyes and grunted deeply. He grabbed his forehead with both of his hands and pushed two handfuls of ruddy hair back on his scalp.  
  
"I should have kissed her, right?"  
  
All Harry could do was laugh.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Madam Pomfrey had agreed to let Ron and Harry go as soon as she prepared some salves for Harry's eye that he would need to apply for the next few days. The bandages had been removed and Harry was happy to see that Pomfrey had worked her magic, quite literally. If anything, Harry could see better out his newly repaired eye, which was sort of disorientating at first.  
  
Yet, this was not before Harry had a rather awkward visit real early the next morning.  
  
When Jessica walked into the room, Ron felt his throat constrict with horror.  
  
"Harry!" exclaimed Jessica, who rushed into the room early that morning. "Are you ok, what happened?"  
  
Harry stared at Jessica for a long moment, and Ron could feel his confusion and hatred welding up within his eyes. Jessica, who also knew Harry well, caught on very quickly, taking a step back.  
  
"Harry, what's wrong?" she asked, cocking her head innocently.  
  
Ron glanced between Harry and Jessica frantically, as Harry stood up slowly, with the intensity of a panther, about to strike.  
  
"Harry, you are scaring me," quivered Jessica, backing off. "What, what's wrong?"  
  
Ron glanced over to see Madam Pomfrey hurrying over with a small bottle. The burley woman momentarily swallowed Harry's tide of hostility as she handed him the bottle.  
  
"Drop that into your eye every three hours, or else it will fall out," she said busily, as she knelt down next to Ron and inspect his leg.  
  
Harry looked down at the bottle of green gel as if it were the most hopeless and useless thing he had ever received.  
  
"Thanks," he said coldly, as his glare snapped back up the Jessica. He did not say anything, but simply scowled at her, with fierce hatred.  
  
And then, Harry's tenacity earned him a victory. Jessica's charming, sweet and innocent face suddenly widened, and it was almost like she transfigured. The Jessica he knew and loved was gone, as if transfigured by an illusion. The charming, sweet innocence behind her eyes was replaced at once by a cold cunning, the likes of which Harry had only seen in two other people, Lucius Malfoy, and the Dark Lord himself. Her charming, sweet innocent face suddenly shifted into a scowl, as her thin brows narrowed over her eyes.  
  
"You know," is all she said, in a cold, ruthless voice, before she turned to sprint for the door.  
  
Harry raced after her, his rage taking the drivers seat as Madam Pomfrey looked up from Ron's leg, glaring at both of them. Both stopped dead in their tracks under the weight of her glare.  
  
"Know what, my love?" asked Harry, in his patented chillingly calm voice he tended to use before exploding. He took her arm rather harshly under his. "Shall we go for a walk, my love?"  
  
Jessica's glare of cool hatred was drowned out as Harry pulled her out the door, followed nervously by Ron. The door shut behind him.  
  
"How did you find out, Potter?" demanded Jessica, as she was forcefully escorted down the hallway.  
  
Ron took up their side, with a look of anger upon his face as well. The anger Ron felt was nothing compared to what Harry exhibited however.  
  
After walking no more than ten feet from the Hospital Wing, Harry grabbed both of Jessica's shoulders and drove her into the wall forcibly, pinning her their with his superior strength.  
  
"Why did you do this to me?" sneered Harry, his voice deathly quiet.  
  
Jessica fixed him with a glare that could have froze water. "I was just doing my job!"  
  
"The Sorting Hat told us," said Ron icily. "It told us you were a shoo-in for Slytherin, but your amazing loyalty and dedication to your work was so strong."  
  
The blonde-haired girl inspected Ron like her were a flea. "I am loyal to my family and to," Jessica trailed off, looking at Harry very snidely. ", those I truly love, Potter."  
  
Harry lifted his hand to slap her in a fit of rage. Yet before he made contact with her cheek, he checked himself. I am not like this, he told himself. Don't change who you are; it will prove she won.  
  
Harry lowered his open palm. "All of it was a lie then? All those good times we shared, all those times I made you laugh, all those talks, all of it was a lie?"  
  
"Let me go, Potter," she said coldly. "No, none of it was a lie. I care for you, even if I am committed to Redetyor. I did not want you involved with this, but fate would not have it that way."  
  
"Liar!" shouted Harry, but at once, Ron grabbed him by the shoulder.  
  
"Quiet! Pomfrey will hear you," his friend demanded.  
  
Seeing the truth behind Ron's words, Harry pulled Jessica off the wall and half-escorted, half-yanked Jessica violently down the corridor.  
  
"Opposites attract, Harry," said Jessica in between gasps of indignity. "You are high-spirited, loving and true, and I am methodical, hateful and manipulating."  
  
Harry glared down at her. "You are self-aware as well, but when I'm betrayed by so many people, I am clueless as to the person I become. We do differ in many respects."  
  
Harry roughly pulled Jessica down a corridor, leading toward the dungeon.  
  
"What are you going to do, Potter?" demanded Jessica, her eyes widening. "You can't just kill me!"  
  
"It all makes sense," said Harry coldly as he marched down the hallway, with a now panicked Ron following shortly behind. "You switched the Sorolith and the Remembrall at the Quiddich game, to cover Seth's arse, didn't you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And you pretended to be a Muggle all along to quell my suspicions?" demanded Harry. "And you did a fine job of it as well. I bet you rigged those cabinets before hand to open at your house."  
  
"Wandless magic," said Jessica dourly. "I created random effects around the room with wandless magic. The Ministry cannot pick it up because we have wards all around our House to keep us safely anonymous."  
  
"Yeah," said Ron crisply. "Your father has a lot of enemies, doesn't he, Jessica?"  
  
"Or," said Harry with utter loathing. "Should I call you Ms. Spencer, the daughter of Garret Spencer, the Deatheater who sold antiques for a living."  
  
"Fine," said Jessica, giving into the point. "You have figured it all out, haven't you boys?"  
  
Harry stopped moving once they were safely buried away in the winding side passages at Hogwarts, far away from where anyone might be found walking this early in the morning.  
  
"No," said Harry, turning to look at Jessica. "Where do you and Redetyor fit in together?"  
  
Jessica pouted firmly, shaking off Harry's arm. Sensing she was not going anywhere, Harry let her go. Ms. Spencer seems to be taking defeat rather graciously, like she lost a chess game or something.  
  
"We grew up together," hissed Jessica, crossing her arms. "My father and Clegg Dumbledore were great friends, before Clegg was killed in a freak accident."  
  
"Clegg Dumbledore?" asked Ron crisply.  
  
"The dark wizard grandson of our good Headmaster," admitted Jessica proudly. "Seth was adopted and safeguarded by the young wizard, who had no family of his own. It was an old fashion apprentice/master relationship."  
  
Ron looked to Harry, with a wide-eyed expression. "Hermione was right!"  
  
"I see," said Harry angrily, his expression beyond livid. His breath came to him in labored gasps. "One more question, why the hell, if you were fleeing from Voldemort, would you move to 6 Privet Drive, the place next door to where Voldemort licks his lips at all summer!"  
  
Jessica leered evilly, her own nervousness seeming to drain from her body. "I'd have thought that was obvious,"  
  
Harry stared at her.  
  
"Because, you goof," said Jessica, suddenly shifting into her smiley, naïve and innocent little self. "If Redetyor's plan was discovered by Voldemort, we'd need another Heir of Slytherin to break the lock binding Narhassa, since only an Heir of Slytherin can do it!" Jessica giggled innocently, driving daggers down Harry's spine as she leaned into him.  
  
"And the first two ways to get a guy to do what you want is appeal his heart," she pointed to Harry's chest. "And then appeal to his," Jessica glanced down briefly and winked.  
  
Harry pushed her away from him forcefully. "You whore, you two timing, power-hungry whore."  
  
Jessica's innocent expression faded again. "I'm married to power, Potter, in no way have I been unfaithful."  
  
Harry leaned against the wall, feeling lightheaded. "Leave."  
  
Jessica scoffed. "You are just going to let me go, Potter?"  
  
"Get out of my fucking face, Jessica," said Harry slowly, not looking up.  
  
Jessica smirked evilly. "Oh yeah, I should probably introduce myself, after all the good times we have had together. I'm Carle Spencer."  
  
"Well, Carle," said Harry, looking up. "I hope Redetyor is more loyal to you than you are to me, because if he fails and Voldemort gets his hands on you, he will take his time."  
  
Jessica slowly began to walk away, fading into the shadows of the halls in Hogwarts. "Not as long as he will take when he gets his hands on you, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and in the process, sentenced both Voldemort and Redetyor to thirteen years of agony."  
  
And then, she was gone, leaving Harry alone with Ron, who was still catching flies. Ron had no words of comfort for Harry, for there were simply none to give. Harry knew this situation sucked, he could not kill Jessica, nor could he even hurt her.  
  
The shameful truth of that matter was that he was still very much in love with her.  
  
"We have much to do in one week," said Harry at last, showing forth his true, inner strength. The shame in his eyes was almost painful for Ron to look at, but Harry's smooth and calm tone of voice put Ron at ease.  
  
Ron clasped Harry's shoulder. "If you need to let off steam, any time, let me know."  
  
"Even when you are asleep?" asked Harry, with the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.  
  
Ron looked down at Harry good-naturedly. "Don't push my benevolence."  
  
Harry grabbed Ron's hand, which was still holding his shoulders. He held it firmly for support, as if uniting his resolve with that of Ron. He instantly felt better.  
  
"Let's get started," said Harry at last. "Malfoy may have taken my sword, Redeytor may have taken my patience, Jessica may have taken my pride, and Dumbledore may have taken my friend, but I'll be damned if someone takes away my soul."  
  
Both Ron and Harry both shuttered for a moment, as they analyzed Harry's words, in light of Harry's revelation about Voldemort, and the dementors he was planning on bringing to Ben Nevis.  
  
"Please, Ron, practice your Patronus. I'd like to keep my soul,"  
  
"I will."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Next Chapter: The day of Ben Nevis, where everyone's paths will cross. This Chapter will be long, and possibly broken up into two, depending on how things work out. I am just as eager to see this play out on paper as you guys are (hopefully). We have not heard the last of Draco, nor have we heard the last of Sean, nor Jessica. (or should we call her Carle)  
  
Stay Tuned. 


	22. The Assault

Chapter 22: The Spire of Ben Nevis  
  
"Can't sleep, huh?" asked Ron as he descended down the stairs and into the Common Room.  
  
Hermione and Harry both looked up from their own chairs, taking their staring eyes off of the Gryffindor fireplace. It was nearly three in the morning, and the room was completely deserted with exception to them.  
  
"No," said Harry, staring calmly into the fireplace. "Not a chance."  
  
Ron knew as well as Harry and Hermione did that tomorrow was December 1st. A week, an entire week, had flown by faster than a Snitch during a hurricane. It seemed like only an hour ago that Harry and him had confronted Jessica outside of the Hospital Wing. Was it angst that always made time fly by when one wanted to remain in the past? It had always made Ron wonder.  
  
Ron sat down without a word in the third chair surrounding the fireplace, staring into its infinite depths.  
  
"I would say we should go over the plan again." began Harry, "but, I know it is one you all don't want to hear."  
  
Ron and Hermione both nodded in agreement. During Ron and Harry's search for an artifact, spell or power that could combat Narhassa, they had only come up with a single idea... and it was horribly grave. Slytherin, who traced his routes back to the Celts of Northern Ireland, had used a different fighting style than that of Godric Gryffindor. While Gryffindor used a traditional English sword and shield style, Slytherin was known to wield two broadswords in battle with the legendary grace of a serpent.  
  
Going on hunch from that point, Ron and Harry had decided that Slytherin's swords must have remained within the Lair of Narhassa, the spot of his defeat. It was believed by Harry that an Heir of Slytherin could wield his swords against Narhassa with comparable strength to the Sword of Godric, seeing as how Slytherin had beaten Godric in a duel.  
  
It was clear to Ron that Harry and Hermione had just turned the scenario over in their heads as well.  
  
"I really wish there was another way," said Harry slowly. "The swords of Slytherin failed him... what says that they will not fail me as well."  
  
Hermione shook her head. "That's also my concern, but I will confess, it is not my largest one."  
  
"What is the largest one?" asked Ron as he yawned off a bit of fatigue.  
  
Hermione looked away from the fireplace and spoke in a distant voice. "Godric's sword is so powerful because Godric put a bit of himself into it. That is why it is selective as to its wielder... and chose to deny Malfoy."  
  
Harry nodded slowly, picking up where Hermione was going with her concern. "If Slytherin put a bit of himself into his swords... you are concerned that they have become artifacts of evil?"  
  
"I'm sorry," said Hermione sadly as she was unable to look at her friends. "But if you use them... who knows what can happen to you?"  
  
Harry moved over to Hermione's chair and knelt down beside it, taking her into an embrace. Hermione buried her face into his shoulder affectionately. She was not crying, but frowning with concern.  
  
"Hermione," said Harry calmly. "If your scared, how do you think I feel?"  
  
Hermione chuckled once despite herself.  
  
"Ron and I have been pouring over the Restricted Section all week, using that pass Professor Lupin gave us." Harry rubbed the back of her head affectionately, loosing his hand in her mass of wavy hair. "There is just no other way short of stealing Godric's sword right out from under Voldemort's nose."  
  
"Do you think there is a way we can stop Seth before he even leaves Hogwarts?" asked Hermione.  
  
"How?" asked Harry, still holding Hermione close, "If we try to stop him before we have proof he's doing anything wrong, nothing will happen. It will be just like when me and Ron attacked him in the bathroom the first week of school!"  
  
Ron sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. "Yeah, Hermione... we cannot exactly kill him."  
  
Harry finally released Hermione and sat down on the carpeted floor by the side of her chair.  
  
"Well, with the spell Lupin taught you, Hermione, I think we will be decently protected from the Narhassa lot when we get to Ben Nevis," explained Harry. "Have you two been practicing your Patronus?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "I got mine working yesterday," she said, a bit more enthusiastically. "It was a large bird of some kind; probably a raven."  
  
Ron sighed and kicked at the ground dejectedly. "I only got some silvery stuff to shoot out of my wand. It... it's a tough spell."  
  
Hiding a wince of disappointment, Harry nodded. "It's ok, Ron. My one regret is that only Hermione learned the defense spell against damaging magic. THAT is a tough spell."  
  
"Well," said Hermione loftily. "As long as you two are at my side... it should be alright. It produces a globe around me that should cover anyone standing next to me."  
  
"Last thing," began Harry, his eyes falling upon the fire. "The distraction Neville is going to let into the Gryffindor Common Room won't occur until the afternoon, I am certain."  
  
Ron looked down at Harry from his chair curiously. "How are you so sure?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "A hunch, I guess. Redetyor is going to fly to Ben Nevis, which truth be told, is not far from here by air. The prediction said the Night of Narhassa... so getting there in the afternoon would mean they'd have a lot of time to waste."  
  
"Makes sense," said Ron in a factual tone as he sat back in his chair.  
  
"Good," said Harry as he put his hands to the soft carpeting beneath him. "Let's try to get some sleep. Big day tomorrow."  
  
Ron looked at Harry. "Not bloody likely... but I suppose it cannot hurt."  
  
At that, Hermione and Harry both smiled tiredly.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Little did the three Gryffindors know that somewhere, nearly two hundred miles away, another boy their age was having a very sleepless night.  
  
Draco Malfoy sat by the window of his bedchamber, staring out over the grassy lawns of Malfoy Manor. He was dressed in light silky green pajamas, made by the finest wizard tailors of Japan. The last few days had passed him by blurrily, as if he had been sleepwalking the whole time.  
  
Tomorrow, my dreams will die with Potter, realized Draco as he lifted his gaze from the enormous front lawn of the Manner and looked into the sky above. He knew that, on the night that Voldemort would take Narhassa's power for his own, the Dark Mark would burn brightly in two places... the sky above Ben Nevis, and upon his forearm, with the pain of loyalty that his father had described to him once before.  
  
He had proven himself to be a traitor to everything good in the world. Harry, Ron and Hermione, whose goals had only been to save everyone, had been his victims; they were victims of his own cruel, backstabbing plot. It was simply too easy to shove a knife into the back of someone who trusted you, realized Draco the night he had returned to the Manner, with the sword of Godric. While my father gets his thrills from easy victories, I don't.  
  
The door to his room clicked open and Draco felt a light breeze tickle the back of his neck as a draft entered the room.  
  
"Isn't it a bit late for a bedtime story, father?" asked Draco snidely, not looking away from the window.  
  
Although the bedroom was the size of a small house, Draco immediately felt a cold, icy hand upon his shoulder. It caused the not-so easily startled Draco to nearly leap out of his skin.  
  
"I appreciate the sentiment, young Malfoy... but, I am not your father, yet," hissed a voice that could only belong to Lord Voldemort himself.  
  
Draco turned around, his gray eyes widening and his jaw dropping. "I... my lord, I'm sorry."  
  
Voldemort shrunk back from Draco, like a shadow rippling in the night wind. His glimmering red eyes cast an eerie glow a few feet from his head.  
  
"Yes." said Voldemort, lifting his gray, skull-like chin in the air. "I can feel it. You have my essence flowing through you... even now. Call me Voldemort, Draco, for in time, we will become much less formal."  
  
Draco peered at Voldemort, his left leg shaking slightly from the tension.  
  
"Yes, Voldemort." said Draco, doing his best to keep an even voice. "I was not expecting you so late."  
  
Voldemort rested his long, spidery fingers upon his side in a casual manner as he seemed to float rather walk over to Draco's bed.  
  
"When I was your age, young Malfoy... I slept in a room with twenty other people during my school breaks at an orphanage. I am not sure how much your father has told you about me."  
  
One of the bony creature's arms rose off of his side. With the grace of a snake, coiling slowly through the tall grass, he extended a finger and dangled it beckoningly to Draco. Slowly, Draco drew closer to Voldemort.  
  
"He told me everything," said Draco evenly.  
  
"Did he." trailed off Voldemort.  
  
"Yes," said Draco, burying his fear deep down.  
  
Voldemort turned to Draco, who was now no more than three feet from the creature. "I will get to the point, young Malfoy... I sense a great conflict within you. Part of you seeks your own goals, and I would expect as much. No one serves anyone else without the promise of personal gain." Voldemort skulked around Draco, examining him like a hawk. "It is what rallies the Death eaters to my side."  
  
Draco bit his tongue, saying nothing.  
  
"The other part of you conflicts with the essence I prize within you." Voldemort's eyes flashed for a moment as he spoke, his anger seeming to build. "... a stinking, wretched trace of benevolence that has been keeping you up late these past few nights. I know you are not up tonight because you are eager to see the sun rise tomorrow."  
  
Draco knew the fury of Lord Voldemort and what he has done in the past to weed out those he thinks might betray him. It was time for him to pull out the golden shovel and dig deep into his pile of bullshit and lies, if he was going to walk away without a Cruciatus Curse or two.  
  
"I am eager, Voldemort," said Draco, with a calm voice. "On the morrow, you are to slay my archrival, Harry Potter. There is no greater joy in my mind than to see you, the Dark Lord Voldemort, using his intestines as a jump rope."  
  
Voldemort curled his lips with amusement. Whether or not this was a good thing, Draco could only venture a guess.  
  
"We will soon see, young Malfoy... for after tomorrow, when I rise to glory I had only once dreamed about, it will be you who will retain my old title of Dark Lord, with time. You will be taught the Dark Arts... and you will learn to hate."  
  
Draco shuttered nervously, but he held back a verbal retort he might have used on his father.  
  
"I already hate," said Draco coldly.  
  
Voldemort slowly floated out of his room. "You will learn to channel that hate into power."  
  
And with that, Draco was left alone with only his own emotions to keep him company... and they were not up to the task of being anything but a problem.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
While Harry had been forced to endure some particularly tense days, this one was, by far, the most nerve wracking of his life. He was on exactly zero hours of sleep, for he was unable to sit still for even a minute that previous night.  
  
It was even harder to go about classes, as if nothing was wrong.  
  
"Harry," whispered Ron, who also had some serious black bags beneath his bright blue eyes. "Stop staring at Neville... even he will figure out you are suspicious of him if you keep it up."  
  
Charms class was extremely difficult to focus in, despite Flitwick's flare and enthusiasm. Today, they were learning the finer art of Illusion Charms, the ability to deceive the eyes of a spectator into thinking an object was there that wasn't.  
  
And it was true. Neville seemed to be unusually on edge today, as his leg consistently shook with a strange sort of anticipation.  
  
To Harry's great relief, there was no Potions class to be had today. While Harry was sure that Snape could not possibly hate him any more than he did before, he certainly was now much more expressive of this hate. He had already earned himself two detentions in few potions classes after the one a week ago, one for not paying attention, and a second one for sneezing the wrong way.  
  
After Charms, there was nothing to do except play the waiting game, again.  
  
"Guys," said Hermione calmly, as they exited Professor Flitwick's classroom. "Doesn't Neville seem like he's in a great rush to get back to the Common Room?"  
  
Ron and Harry watched the large boy hustling down the corridor alone, making his way to the Gryffindor tower.  
  
"Alright," said Harry with a nod. "Ron, did you lock our broomsticks in the closet, near the Main Hall?"  
  
"I took care of it yesterday," said Ron affirmed with a roll of his eyes. "If Redetyor makes his move, we'll be ready to follow him."  
  
The three friends took quickly to hiding in a closet, nearby the stairwell leading up to the Gryffindor Tower.  
  
"If Jessica, or Redeytor head up those stairs... we'll stun them unconscious," stated Harry, and attained nods from both his friends.  
  
After about five minutes, Neville came back down the stairs, holding his Defense Against the Dark Arts book in his hands, with Seamus Finnigan behind him.  
  
"You look like you just ran the Quiddich pitch ten times," jested Seamus with a smirk as he rounded down the last flight of stairs.  
  
"Forgot my book," said Neville with a pant, and a nervous glance around.  
  
Ron and Hermione looked to Harry, who began to chuckle.  
  
"Well," said Ron, "Looks like it isn't quite time."  
  
Ron never got to complete his sentence, however, as a huge explosion suddenly rocked the entire area, sending both Neville and Seamus tumbling down the remaining stairs.  
  
"Blimey!" screamed Harry, as Ron fell out of the closet in shock.  
  
The Gryffindor tower shook again as another explosion rocked the entire area, sending rubble from the massive tower crumbling down and smashing loudly against the ground below.  
  
"Oh my god," shrieked Neville as he rolled out of the way of a large rock that proceeded to smash upon the ground, just where his head had been.  
  
Wasting no time, Ron and Harry both rushed out into harm's way after their friends. Harry grabbed Neville by the collar of his robes while Ron hooked his arm around Seamus', and began to pull them out of harms way, as more rubble from the stairwell continued to fall. Both boys did not seem to be in proper condition to get up and walk, for they had rolled down fifteen steps and crashed upon the hard, stony floor.  
  
And a third explosion ripped through all of them, coming from the Gryffindor common room... and Harry felt as though the world shifted into slow motion.  
  
From above, Harry heard childish screams. To Harry's horror, he saw the staircase leading up to the Gryffindor tower split at one junction, causing three boys to loose the only material between them and a one hundred foot fall to the stony hard ground below.  
  
Hermione, Harry and Ron acted as one... drawing their wands as the boys hollered and flailed about helplessly as huge rocks began slamming to rain down upon the ground.  
  
"Winguardiam Levoisa!" each of them shouted, though Ron had to leap out of the way of a boulder-sized chuck of step before he could enact his spell. They pointed them to the boys who were falling, working their magic. The three boys hit the ground at the same time... and had it not been for the three levitation spells, there wouldn't be much left of them.  
  
The boys were Colin Creevey, Dennis Creevey and one of Dennis' friends, a second year named Davis Kemp.  
  
Instead, Colin hit with a thud and managed to stand quickly, grabbing Harry in a huge hug.  
  
"Oh thank you... thank you... thank you."  
  
"Colin," shouted Harry, pushing him away firmly. "Get your brother and his friend and go to the Great Hall, NOW!"  
  
Colin nodded nervously, and gathered the other two boys. Without another word, the three of them sprinted down the hallway.  
  
Harry leapt aside as a fourth explosion rang through the area, sending another portion of the stairwell crashing down upon them. Seamus had a dazed expression upon his face, and Harry guessed that it was some form of concussion. Neville looked terrified, but was not moving anywhere fast, for he was clutching his ankle with his free hands.  
  
"We need to move them, now!" said Ron, his voice trembling as more pieces of stairwell... considerably bigger ones... began to fall all around them. "The whole stairwell is going to collapse!"  
  
Ron and Hermione both grabbed Neville, while Harry grabbed Seamus, and began to pull the boys away from the falling rubble.  
  
"Argh!" cried Ron sharply, as a large piece of debris smashed into his shoulder, sending him to the ground.  
  
"RON!" cried Hermione, as a large boulder missed Neville by a foot. She grabbed Ron, who was bleeding through his robes. Harry continued pulling Seamus, knowing that there was little he could do until he could free himself of the Irish boy.  
  
It was a thankful sight to see that Colin Creevey was coming back, apparently having heard Hermione's scream. Without even a word, he grabbed Neville by his shoulders and continued dragging him... freeing Hermione to help Ron hobble to his feet.  
  
After a few more seconds, they had passed into the safety of an adjacent hallway. No more than twenty seconds later, a huge crumbling explosion brought down the entire stairwell, slamming unceremoniously into the floor, blocking the way they had just come.  
  
The rumbling of more explosions were heard from the distance, shaking the very school itself.  
  
Harry was brought back to his senses by Neville sniffling, as tears weld up in his eyes. Only now remembering that this was likely his doing, Harry roughly grabbed Neville by his robes, hoisting him up very roughly.  
  
"What the hell did you do?" he roared into his face.  
  
Neville blinked the tears out of his eyes. "My... my friend Seth told me to open the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room after Charms... and then he told me to tell everyone to leave... I had no idea!"  
  
Harry wanted to punch Neville... he wanted to vent some frustration, yet the boy looked too innocent and pathetic to dirty his knuckles upon.  
  
"I'll deal with you later, Wormtail," sneered Harry, the words flowing out of his mouth without any conscious urging, as he dropped Neville to the ground painfully. "Come on, Hermione!"  
  
Ron struggled to his feet. "I'm coming with you," he said weakly, holding his shoulder weakly.  
  
Colin looked completely terrified as another explosion shook the school. "What... what's happening??"  
  
"Carle." sneered Harry. "I bet my life she's sharing the Gryffindor Common Room's fate with the Hufflepuffs."  
  
"Carle?" asked Colin in a terrified manner.  
  
Harry ignored Colin. "Ron, you cannot fly like this... Colin, take Ron to the Hospital Wing, tell Pomfrey to patch him up real quick."  
  
"Come on, Harry!" shrieked Hermione, running down the hallway. "We cannot let Redetyor get away with this!"  
  
"To sod with that, Harry," sneered Ron through the pain in his shoulder. His fingertips were bloody from where he clutched his wound. "I can fly fine."  
  
Harry shook his head, starting after Hermione. "No way, Ron! There is no way you can fly with that injury!"  
  
"I'm coming!" roared Ron as he took off after Harry.  
  
It was Hermione, however, who acted first. She drew her wand, her eyes gleaming with intensity. She pointed it at Ron.  
  
"Stupefy!"  
  
Ron dropped to the ground, unconscious.  
  
Harry looked back to Hermione, but did not have time for questions as he took off after her.  
  
"I'll take care of these three, Harry!" called Colin from behind. "I know you have to save the day or something, so good luck!"  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Harry and Hermione crashed through the front entrance of Hogwarts, their brooms in hand, just in time to see a breathe stopping sight.  
  
All one hundred Narhassa students stood in formation out in front of the school, like a black insect colony upon the snowy white ground. Standing before all of them was Seth, the snide and crisp expression upon his face reminding Harry of a circling hawk, premetitating its moment to strike. Calmly held in one hand was his broom, Harry noticed. In fact only about thirty others had brooms as well. The rest were empty handed.  
  
"... travel to Ben Nevis," he was saying. "Buy us time, and cover our retreat. Stay no longer than ten minutes, and flee home to your families. You have done your duty and will be rewarded when I return. Happy hunting!"  
  
Hermione held out her wand and quickly muttered the words to a spell.  
  
"Natura Secondo Orbe Terracqueo!" exclaimed Hermione, waving her wand in a circle.  
  
Without another word, about a third of the Narhassa students kicked off from the ground, as if sharing a hive mind. They came about, aligning there brooms the same way, and flew over Hogwarts and out of sight. The other two thirds of the Narhassa students turned toward the entrance, and saw Hermione and Harry standing there.  
  
"Oh, brilliant," drawled the voice of Bradley Trahvis, from out in front of the group. "Our first catch of the day... give them hell!"  
  
He outstretched his fingertips and a bolt of lighting shot forth from his fingertips. Yet, Hermione's spell kicked into gear as the lightning hugged an otherwise invisible globe around them, unable to permeate her powerful spell.  
  
Wasting no time, Harry drew his wand.  
  
"Stupefy!" he shouted, as his purple blast took Trahvis in the chest, dropping him quickly.  
  
With that, ten more blasts of lightning flew from the line of students, as the other Narhassa boys and girls struggled to get a clear shot.  
  
Hermione grit her teeth, focusing on maintaining her spell as white lightning rippled around her globe and tested her resolve.  
  
"I cannot hold them all!" she shrieked. "We need to get out of here!"  
  
"Stupefy!" cried Harry, taking down another in the line. "Alright, let's go!"  
  
Hermione and Harry both leapt on their brooms and avoided several more blasts of power as they looped about into the air, flying side by side. The rest of the Narhassa students gave up upon trying to shoot them, and instead, focused upon the school, launching blasts of fire and lightning at the front, causing gradual, superficial destruction.  
  
Harry guessed this was more to sow confusion upon those on the inside and buy Redetyor more time to escape.  
  
Looking down upon the school, there was clearly some external damage. The Gryffindor Tower, which spiraled off the East Wing of the school, had lost its stone roof, and was smoldering off an angry shade of black smoke. Also, near the center of the school, traces of the roof were marred, with a golden light glimmering from the visible cracks. Harry's idea about the Hufflepuff Common Room was likely accurate.  
  
And then, before they were out of sight, a portion of the roof shot off in another location, the west wing of the school with a terrible explosion that filled the afternoon sky.  
  
"Why is he doing this?" cried Hermione desperately. "He's already won... he's away from school!"  
  
Harry glared at the third gapping opening in the proud school. "It's her," he said coldly. "Jessica... Carle... it's her. It has to be."  
  
"Harry, look!" said Hermione pointing up ahead toward the swarm of black robed riders that they were following.  
  
A smaller boy had turned around upon his broom, and was hovering in mid- air, staring at the two unwanted guests. It was clear he was shouting something and soon, out of the mass of capes, Seth appeared at the rear, putting his hands to his eyes to shield off the sun to give him a better look at them. With a few gesticulations, two boys broke rank from the Narhassa swarm and split up, flying at them and aimed for their flanks. The smaller boy, who noticed their arrival, seemed to accelerate toward him.  
  
"Seems they aren't going to make this easy," muttered Harry.  
  
Hermione gulped nervously. "I wish I took the time to learn how to play Quiddich."  
  
"Hermione, just... find a shady spot and don't loose sight of them. I'll handle these three."  
  
One of the boys, the one trying to flank him to his right, shot forward at Harry, with but a single hand upon his broom, a show of extreme arrogance.  
  
Harry quickly recognized him as Alex.  
  
"Sucks I never got a chance to play Quiddich against you, Potter," hissed the American boy as he slowed his broom within thirty feet of Harry. "I'd have liked to pave your face with the bludgers."  
  
Harry glared at Alex, who floated arrogantly nearby. "Why don't you call off the other two, and play me one on one?"  
  
Alex snickered. "Oh, a challenge then?"  
  
"You bet your arse." said Harry crisply. "Or, are you chicken?"  
  
Harry was glad Hermione had made herself scarce. His Seeker instincts spotted her far beneath him, flying a few feet off the ground, and keeping the swarm of Narhassa students in sight.  
  
With a cackle, Alex waved the other two away. Obediently, the other two Narhassa students whipped past Harry and Alex in a broad loop, and began to fly after Redetyor.  
  
"I'm going to enjoy this, Potter," he said, raising one of his hands. "Any last words?"  
  
Harry raised his wand, licking his lips. "Yeah.plenty."  
  
Both wizards began a spell at the same time.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Ron groaned as his eyelids fluttered awake. It sounded as though the school was under a massive bombardment as explosions echoed all around him. The halls were filled with shouts of terror and the thudding of forceful spells striking the wall of the school. He realized someone was dragging him across the rubble-ridden floor.  
  
"Who." he stammered, fighting off the last effects of Hermione's spell.  
  
"Colin," said a voice from somewhere above him. "And Seamus."  
  
Amazed by his own willpower, Ron shook off those holding him and rose to his knees, bracing a shaking hand against the wall.  
  
"They... they knocked me out!" he stammered, forcing the words out of his stunned lips.  
  
Another huge explosion rocked the school. Colin gripped the wall for support as small chunks of rock landed upon their heads from the ceiling. Seamus, who apparently was coping with his concussion, was upon his feet as well, with Neville's arm over his shoulder. Neville was standing on his good foot, looking completely traumatized.  
  
"Colin," said Ron demandingly. "I... I need you to patch up my shoulder."  
  
The younger boy's brown eyes widened. "Ron, I'm only a fourth year! You haven't even learned Healing Charms yet! That... that's sixth year stuff!"  
  
"It's not difficult," hissed Ron through the pain. "I've seen my mother do it countless times on these sort of cuts."  
  
Colin looked at Ron as though he were the most naïve person in the world. "As you can right tell, I am not your mother!"  
  
Ron glared back at the mousy haired boy. "You need to have a focused mind to do it... and you are the only one who can focus right now, seeing as how Neville's foot is twisted 180 degrees, Seamus is knocked into the middle of next week, and I'm bleeding to death!"  
  
Colin swallowed nervously and drew his wand. "Alright, fine. What do I do?"  
  
"The words are Utilitario Guarire, and you need to think of the wound sealing itself slowly," explained Ron. "Swish and flick please, I do not want to loose my arm!"  
  
Colin pushed his sweaty, dust-ridden mousy hair out of his face and puffed out his cheeks. Ron looked at him expectantly, and presented his shoulder to the boy.  
  
"Utilit... Utilitario Guar- no," said Colin, his wand shaking.  
  
"Today, Colin! Utilitario Guarire!"  
  
Colin grit his teeth and closed his eyes. "Utilitario Guarire!"  
  
At first, nothing happened... however, after a moment, Colin's wand began to emit a soft blue light, which blossomed into a beam and lightly went over Ron's bleeding wound.  
  
Colin opened his eyes and watched his wand working with wonder and amazement.  
  
"I... I'm doing it!" he exclaimed.  
  
"Focus!" snapped Ron.  
  
Yet, that was all the time Colin needed to screw up the spell as suddenly, the blue energy intensified into a searing beam of light that caused Ron to shriek.  
  
Colin lifted his wand off of Ron's injury, his eyes widening as the hot beam of blue energy nearly scorched Seamus' face, had he not had enough sense to duck quickly. Colin struggled to control his wand, but seemed to resemble a three year old trying to wrestle a water hose as the wand jerked him two and fro.  
  
Ron inspected the cut upon his shoulder and saw that it was scabbed over by the hot light and the bleeding was stopped.  
  
"Absolutely pathetic, Colin," said Ron with a snort, "but you stopped the bleeding. Thanks."  
  
Colin yelped as his wand began vibrating, while shooting off gouts of blue light and burning squiggly lines in the stony wall.  
  
"D-d-d-on't M-m-mention it," said Colin, as he shook violently, trying to bring his wand to some semblance of order.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
After five minutes of broomstick dueling, neither boy had been able to score a major hit... Harry's spells were just too inaccurate, flying atop his broom, and his flying was just too superior for Alex to land one of his accurate lightning bolts. It was clear to both boys who'd REALLY win this duel, if a Snitch were the goal, and not each other.  
  
Harry swerved to the side as three blue missiles shot past his ear.  
  
"Stupefy!" he cried out again, launching a purple blast of energy at Alex, who swerved daringly to his left, looping around him with amazing skill.  
  
Alex stretched out his right hand, sending fingers of lightning shooting at Harry in riposte. Having no choice, Harry shot down in a Wronski Feint, feeling the hair rise with static energy.  
  
"You run, Potter!" taunted Alex, as he shot down after Harry, blue missiles streaking forth from his outstretched hand.  
  
Harry spiraled to the ground, weaving, scooting and pulling all his weight back to avoid falling off his broom as well as dodge Alex's string of projectiles. He placed his wand into his robe, using both hands to guide his broom.  
  
"When I finish with you, no one will recognize who you were!" hissed Alex's voice, sounding closer.  
  
A light smirk crossed Harry's face as he continued toward the ground.  
  
100 feet.  
  
A bolt of lightning grazed past Harry's ear, causing him to gasp in pain. Luckily, he only caught a wisp of it and it was only a slight burn.  
  
75 feet.  
  
"Stay still you pussy!" snorted Alex from behind as a blue missile whizzed past Harry's body.  
  
35 feet.  
  
Harry grit his teeth and leaned forward, speeding up his descent toward the rapidly approaching wall of green grass. His fingers clasped the shaft of his broom tightly as he felt his stomach drop to his feet.  
  
10 feet.  
  
With all the might he could muster, Harry yanked up with both his hands, skimming across the top of the grass... performing the Wronski feint to perfection.  
  
Alex, who was only using one hand upon his broomstick, was going way too fast. So intent was he upon catching Harry, he had ignored the ground rushing up to meet him.  
  
Alex cried out in terror, but it was too late.  
  
Harry came about just in time to see Alex lift up his broom, but not in time to save him from the rapidly approaching ground. His broom slammed into the ground at a forty-five degree angle, splintering the shaft in four places. Alex hit the ground with a thud and rolled over a few times on the ground, finally coming to a rest.  
  
Harry's smile was as bright as the sun, until he realized that Alex was not getting up. He had expected Alex to lift himself off the ground and glare at him defiantly, like Malfoy would after being pushed over.  
  
Yet Alex was very... very still.  
  
The Boy Who Lived suddenly tensed up, the color draining from his cheeks as if a vampire was feasting upon him. His bright green eyes widened with stupefaction and confusion.  
  
Unable to hide his concern any longer, Harry leapt to the ground and rushed over to Alex's side.  
  
The boy's face was bloody, and he was sprawled out totally helplessly. Harry shook his shoulder nervously.  
  
"Oh, don't be dead... please don't be de."  
  
Alex suddenly grabbed Harry's wrist, twisted his arm, and drove his other fist into his face, laying out Harry before he knew what hit him. Harry's world went blurry as his glasses fell off his face and landed upon the ground  
  
"You moron," hissed Alex as he crawled over to Harry and leapt on top of him, punching him in the side, furiously.  
  
Harry, urged on by panic, grabbed the front of Alex's robe, and going on something he had seen in a Muggle movie once, drove his forehead into Alex's face  
  
Alex cried out as he fell over backwards, his nose most likely broken. Combining his injuries from his crash landing as well as Harry's head butt, Alex seemed to be in no mood to get up. Harry leapt to his feet quickly, withdrew his wand from his robe, and aimed it at Alex.  
  
"What a sad person you are," said Harry coolly as he knelt down, picked up his glasses, and put them back on over his face.  
  
Alex curled his upper lip, glaring up at Harry. "Oh, you haven't even seen the worst of it, yet. You will never get to Ben Nevis in time to stop Redetyor. He'll be all powerful by the time you get there... and he'll erase you from the fucking universe like a grammatical error."  
  
"Not before I erase you," said Harry darkly, aiming his wand at Alex's head. "Avada."  
  
This widened Alex's eyes. "No... wait... please! Don't kill me!"  
  
And now, it was Harry's turn to curl his upper lip with amusement. "Now who's the... oh what was the word you Americans use? 'Pussy,' I think?"  
  
Before Alex could reply, Harry blasted him with the Stunning Charm, knocking him unconscious.  
  
And that was that.  
  
Harry puffed out his cheeks, and looked to the sky wearily... just in time to see a streak of black, with flaming red hair descending toward him. His mouth dropped as Ron Weasley lowered himself out of the sky and landed softly next to him.  
  
"Well, if you're quite done playing with this Muggle," stated Ron coolly, "Redetyor is long gone and Hermione is alone!"  
  
Harry sighed and rubbed his swollen cheek, where Alex had socked him.  
  
"Look, Ron."  
  
Ron's freckled face showed only one emotion, pain.  
  
"Forget it, Harry." said Ron angrily. "I'm used to most people not respecting me, but it hurts when your best friend leaves you behind because he thinks you are too weak to carry on."  
  
Harry shrugged, looking completely defeated. "I was worried you couldn't fly."  
  
Ron lifted off again. "I believe you said once... it is nice when people you don't know well trust you, when your best friend doesn't. I'm lucky Colin Creevey had more faith in me than you did."  
  
With that, Ron took off, speeding in the direction that Redetyor was last seen going... how he knew that was the right way, Harry could only guess.  
  
With a groan and a sigh, Harry hopped on his broom and followed Ron. This was the absolute LAST thing he needed.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Next Chapter: The Final Showdown on top of Ben Nevis and into Narhassa's Lair.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Chapter 22 ALTERNATE SCENE  
  
(This was a result of my fanatical Thursday night boredom... judge me not too harshly)  
  
"I am eager, Voldemort," said Draco, with a calm voice. "On the morrow, you are to slay my archrival, Harry Potter. There is no greater joy in my mind than to see you, the Dark Lord Voldemort, using his intestines as a jump rope."  
  
Voldemort cocked his head, as if that was about the last thing he expected Draco to say.  
  
Draco smiled and continued. "And, I hope Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger help him, so the great Voldemort will tear out their spines and play Quiddich with their hearts and play dodgeball with their skulls and erect himself a tee-pee from their freshly-skinned bones and."  
  
"Silence." muttered Voldemort, curling his upper lip with distaste. "Boy, you are making me sick. Lucius must have given you an interesting childhood."  
  
Draco continued to smile brightly. "Oh, I haven't even started on Redetyor yet."  
  
"Draco," said Voldemort, sitting down on his bed. "I think we need to have a little talk."  
  
Draco, playing the role of a naïve fifteen year old, sat down next to Voldemort and folded his hands on his lap. Damn, I'm good.  
  
"Ermm," trailed off Voldemort, scratching his chin. "All of your teenage... aggression and... errm... stems from hormones and... has your father had this talk with you yet?"  
  
Draco forced himself not to laugh out loud.  
  
"No, Voldemort," Draco forced himself to say, managing to keep a straight face. "Does this have to do with the place babies come from? My father always told me that the stork drops the babies headfirst down the chimney."  
  
Voldemort's eyes flared with indecision as he shifted uncomfortably. "Your father hasn't told you about the... wild magic?"  
  
Draco shook his head with feigned innocence.  
  
"What about the goblin polka?"  
  
"No."  
  
"The demented dance?" asked Voldemort, bordering on panic.  
  
"Nope." Draco shook his head naively,  
  
Voldemort began a very interesting session of explaining how the dark parasites take root within the hollow, clammy cave.  
  
"And you see... the dark parasites latch onto the... the... evil spawn... and then, merge into one... twisted being," finished Voldemort, his red eyes flaring with awkwardness.  
  
"So," said Draco, desperately hiding a laugh behind his lips. "At one time, I was a dark parasite?"  
  
"Well... um." Voldemort trailed off. "Yes, you can think of it that way."  
  
Draco scratched his head, feigning utter ignorance. I have to see how far I can drag this.  
  
"When my father sent me off to school this year, he told me to use rubber. What does that mean?"  
  
Voldemort's eyes widened. "I ought to give your father the Killing Curse... he HASN'T told YOU about the Wizard's Hat on the Wand?"  
  
Draco, being the marvelous actor he always prided himself to be, shook his head.  
  
"What a dysfunctional family," snorted Voldemort. "I need to talk to Lucius about a family therapist. I believe Watts is into that sort of thing. After we slaughter Harry Potter, claim the power of Narhassa, and rise to the level of demigods... we really have to slow things down for some family therapy. Yes, we will have to make a time after we defeat Potter."  
  
"... and play Jacks with his ribs?" added Draco hopefully.  
  
"No," snapped Voldemort, pointing his finger at Draco. "Bad Draco!"  
  
"... marbles with his ey."  
  
"No!"  
  
"... what about."  
  
"NO NO NO NO NO... Can you fly without a broom, Draco?"  
  
Draco huffed and shook his head.  
  
"Keep that in mind, because you are two steps away from being thrown out that window." said Voldemort agitatedly as he pointed to the window of Draco's room.  
  
Draco nodded and lowered his head.  
  
"I will not have one of my Deatheaters bringing up a child who will die a virgin because he knows not the first thing about ... anything!"  
  
"Hey," said Draco crisply. "I will not die a virgin. I mean, if someone wants the Malfinator in the sack... I just demand them to be up to standards."  
  
Voldemort smirked. "So you are into large knockers?"  
  
Draco shrugged. "Nah... I need a perfect butt. But, at this point, I'm not picky. You should see some of the girls that are in Slytherin right now. After getting out of Hogwarts, I'd take just about anything shy of a barn yard animal."  
  
Voldemort slapped his forehead. "That's it... out of my sight."  
  
"But, this is my room." said Draco softly.  
  
"Not anymore. Do your duty to the Dark Lord, and go sleep on the sofa!" snapped Voldemort.  
  
Draco looked to Voldemort as he stood up. "Can I just take one of the other twenty-seven bedrooms?"  
  
"Keep this up, and I'll have you out in the dog house!" snapped Voldemort.  
  
"Fine," murmured Draco, walking out. "It isn't like my father hasn't made me sleep THERE before."  
  
Voldemort glanced up as Draco walked out the door, shutting it behind him. The Dark Lord sighed and looked to the ceiling.  
  
"Maybe I should reconsider this whole 'Father' thing... and just let Lucius keep the bastard."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
... 


	23. Culminations

Chapter 23: Culminations  
  
The first real feeling that impacted Hermione's mind and body was a frigid chill as she drew near to her goal. Flying atop her broom, over the ocean of Northern Scotland and nearing the Ben was one of the coldest feelings she had ever experienced. It was as cutting as a blade, peeling away her skin. While she was smart enough to have brought along her Gryffindor scarf, which she had enchanted second year with a Warming Charm, it was still quite lacking in power to stave off the bitter, bitter chill.  
  
But still, Hermione had been able to fly closer to the Narhassa students, for she was now concealed in the all but faded night. The trip, so far, had taken just shy three hours, and their destination was on the horizon.  
  
Across the mountain range, standing out pronouncedly against the bleeding sunset was the paramount that Hermione knew to be their destination. Like a lone figure in a desolate street, it stood out from its surroundings, pointing like a jagged spear into the waning light. Simply closing her eyes, she could feel the mountain with all its majesty, as well as the secrets that were lurking beneath it. Waiting.  
  
As Ben Nevis grew in size, it became clear that its summit was not as pointed as she had thought from a distance. The steep top she had seen was actually a statue of some sort, standing well over fifty feet in the air. While she would need to get closer to make out the finer details... it appeared to be a statue of a Griffin, with a fierce lions head and the body of an eagle, its majestic golden wings colored by the hue of the dying sun.  
  
Hermione, forgetting to be freezing, stared at the statue with a mixture of confusion and intrigue. It seemed almost paradoxical to her that the symbol of Gryffindor would be perched upon the tomb of an ancient evil.  
  
The Narhassa students all pulled on their brooms, slowing down, and starting their descent toward the tip of the grand mountain. Hermione, knowing all too well that Voldemort was likely in the area, made her move to descend a bit further down the mountain... out of sight by prying eyes.  
  
She only hoped Harry would be here shortly.  
  
She dismounted her broom upon a small ledge that seemed to neither have a way up or down other than flying. This would be a good spot to stay while waiting for Harry.  
  
Her hopes about Harry were suddenly choked out of her lungs as she felt cold hands grab her from behind. Before she could scream, a hand over her mouth cut off her words.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Fine, Ron," said Harry as he flew parallel with his best friend in the late evening sky. "I screwed up, and I'm sorry."  
  
Ron continued staring ahead as their target destination, for the mountain was not far of and difficult to miss.  
  
"Uh-huh," muttered Ron over the ripping, cold wind.  
  
"Ron!" exclaimed Harry desperately. "Can you just forgive me and accept my apology. You aren't the only one with the right to screw up and apologize for it!"  
  
Ron looked back at Harry morosely. "And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"It means," began Harry angrily, "that you always ask for forgiveness... me... Hermione... Sean... and we always give it to you! Can you just do me this huge favor and accept my apology, for once? I mean, heck Ron, we are about to confront Redetyor AND Voldemort... and one of us is going to die, according to Trelawney! Can we at least just not have to worry about a tension between us as well?"  
  
At last, Harry finally seemed to make a dent in the stubborn armor that Ron was always protecting him like a blunt shield.  
  
"Fine," said Ron coldly. "Apology accepted."  
  
They continued toward Ben Nevis as the sun winked out over the mountaintops and plunged the mountain range into perpetual darkness.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"It's ok, Hermione," whispered a sharp, but familiar voice. "It's me... calm down."  
  
Hermione's ears told her who she was hearing, but her brain refused to process this information... because there was no way on Earth it was him, on top of Ben Nevis with her. He was back home, in California, under the safeguards of Dumbledore's charms.  
  
But, whether it be a very convincing disguise, or the truth... the person released his hands from her mouth, turned her around, and kissed her before she could even process anything more. Hermione went completely tense, but after a moment, melted in his embrace.  
  
She could tell by the way he kissed her that it was definitely Sean Camaradi.  
  
"Sean!" she exclaimed in a harsh whisper, as she broke away from his lips. "What are you..."  
  
Sean put his hand to her mouth again, cutting her off. "Shhh... they are close by. Where's Ron and Harry?"  
  
Hermione now got a chance to view her scenery with more than a passing glance. She was upon a small ledge at dizzying heights. Above her was a steeply sloped, yet very rough rocky face, leading to the summit. There was a small cave upon this ledge, no more than two foot round hole, likely where Sean had been hiding.  
  
"We got separated," whispered Hermione. "Ron got hurt at Hogwarts, but Harry should be here any minute."  
  
Sean nodded slowly at her, glancing around nervously. The ledge itself was no more than twenty feet on all sides, barely more than a large boulder that was grafted precariously to the frame of the mountain.  
  
"It was smart for you to land here," said Sean coyly. "Voldemort has taken up position upon the other side of the mountain... and he has company."  
  
This drew a wince from Hermione. "Dementors?"  
  
Sean nodded. "Over sixty... it's a small army."  
  
Hermione looked at Sean urgently. "How do you know?"  
  
"I've been waiting here since this morning," explained Sean. "I never went home to America... I used my plane ticket money to stay in some cheap inn in London and buy myself a cheap broom from the Quiddich Supply bargain bin to fly up here yesterday. Voldemort and posse Apparated here at noon."  
  
"Anyways," continued Sean, before Hermione could speak. "We need to signal Harry... if he tries to go around the other side of the mountain in hopes of sneaking up on Redetyor, he'll fly smack into Voldemort's arms."  
  
Hermione nodded. "I could try a Lumos, but won't the Narhassa students see it?"  
  
Sean shook his head. "Doubtful... they are all at the top of the mountain, and Voldemort is on the other side. But again, how will Harry know it is us and not Voldemort, or more Narhassa students?"  
  
Hermione conceded the point. "Well, we have to do something."  
  
The small red-haired boy nodded in agreement. "Let me put some of Narhassa's powers to work..."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Well," said Ron, his hostility toward Harry fading with the apology. "How do you want to do this?"  
  
"I'm thinking we should fly low, around the mountain, and come up behind the statue of the Griffin," explained Harry. "That's probably what Hermione did."  
  
Ron nodded. "Sound enough for me."  
  
Both boys began to fly low, when suddenly, something caught Harry's eye.  
  
"Hey Ron, look!"  
  
From a ledge, slightly below the summit of Ben Nevis, a gold light shined brightly... which shifted gradually into a red light... and then back to a gold one... and the pattern repeated itself.  
  
"It's Hermione!" exclaimed Harry. "Those are the Gryffindor colors..."  
  
Ron looked to Harry dubiously. "Or it's You-Who-Know, laying the trap for you."  
  
Harry paused for a moment, but shook his head. "No way..."  
  
"What makes you so sure?" inquired Ron dubiously.  
  
"Gut feeling," said Harry, with a shrug. "I don't know... I just think I'd know if it was Voldemort."  
  
Ron grit his teeth and winced painfully in the dark. "Can you at least not call him that..."  
  
"Ron, seriously..." began Harry, looking over at his friend as they slowed their broomsticks down. "What is wrong with you? We are about to face LORD VOLDEMORT in the flesh, and you cannot even call him by his real name!"  
  
Ron sighed, likely realizing that Harry had a very valid point. "Fine... Voldemort... Voldemort... Voldemort..."  
  
Harry looked at Ron. "There, how hard was that?"  
  
The red-haired boy frowned. "Extremely."  
  
Harry groaned and descended toward the flashing red and gold light, causing Ron to splutter with uncertainty, but follow him nonetheless.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Sean!" exclaimed Harry as he dismounted his broom and threw it over his shoulders. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Ron's look was one of pure disbelief while both Hermione and Sean waved at Harry.  
  
"I don't abandon my friends," said Sean with a smirk on his face as he extended his hand to Harry. Harry slapped it and shook it firmly.  
  
"Great to see you here, Sean," said Harry, with a bright smile on his own face.  
  
Sean looked at Harry sincerely. "I wasn't going to let you face this one alone."  
  
Perhaps Sean was psychic, thought Harry as his smile faded someone at the ring to the words. So often had he always thought of himself as alone in these struggles, for regardless of what Ron and Hermione did to help him, it always came down to him alone... without anyone to help him.  
  
After a moment or two, Sean finished conveying the information to Harry concerning Voldemort and Redetyor, through chattering teeth.  
  
"We should fly up now," said Hermione sagely. "They probably have opened Narhassa's lair by now."  
  
Harry nodded shortly, and the four friends mounted their brooms again and kicked off the biting cold ledge. The wind ripped into Harry fiercely, but his adrenaline and warm, enchanted clothing kept him from feeling the worst of it. Sean, if anyone, looked the coldest, for he simply wore his UCLA sweatshirt and long jeans, without much in the way of a jacket, or enchanted robes.  
  
The sight before them seemed to be something out Harry's worst nightmare. All of the Narhassa students were gathered around the statue of the Griffin reverently, waiting quietly for something, like some sort of religious cult. There had to be at least thirty or forty of them, ranging from first years shorter than Sean to full grown seventh year, perhaps even taller than Ron. The odd Narhassa student held his palm to the sky, with a magical fire that burned brightly from his or her fingers, casting ample light to see by.  
  
And in the center of the circle stood Jessica and Seth. Jessica seemed to be keeping an eye out dubiously, a wand in her hand, while Seth held his arms out to a round ball that hovered in the air before him, glowing a dim shade of green.  
  
"The Sorolith," breathed Harry as he descended to the ground and hide behind a large rock upon the summit. Ron, Hermione and Sean followed suite, dropping their brooms in a concealed pile, and huddled near Harry, watching the display.  
  
And suddenly, Harry grit his teeth in anger as he head exploded with pain. He bit down on his lip, hard, to prevent crying out into the night.  
  
"His scar," exclaimed Ron as he grabbed Harry's arm to prevent him from slumping.  
  
"Voldemort..." gasped Harry, as Sean grabbed his other arm. "He... he's so close... so close."  
  
"Ah Potter," chided a voice inside of his head. "I am glad you could make it...wouldn't want to start the big show without you."  
  
Harry gasped deeply, as his two male friends held him up. "Voldemort... he... he's speaking to me  
  
"How does he know we are here?" asked Sean, with a panicked twinge to his voice.  
  
Hermione looked extremely worried. "Voldemort can sense when he is close, just as Harry can sense when he is close."  
  
And then, Harry felt a cold hand within his soul, squeezing at his heart. Apparently, he was not the only one as Sean yelped in agony, loudly into the night. Ron and Hermione's breath also came to them in labored gasps.  
  
Take Harry and run... Lily... cried out the voice of James Potter within his head.  
  
Harry grit his teeth as he drew his wand.  
  
"What... what's happening?" cried Sean, his voice coming to him ever so weakly. "Cody... no... no..."  
  
Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside, now... demanded the Dark Lord... from fourteen years ago.  
  
"Dementors," Harry thought he said, though he could not hear his own voice. He could feel his head pounding and his breath stabbing his lungs like icy swords, cleaving him from the inside.  
  
"Should we... use the Patronus?" Hermione said as she grabbed the nearby rock for support with one hand and held her forehead with the other, trying to drive the hopelessness out of her own head.  
  
Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead...  
  
"No," Harry heard himself say, over the crying of his parents and the laughter of Lord Voldemort. "It... it will give our position away... wait..."  
  
Sean fell to his knees, gripping his head. "No, please... Cody... stay home... don't go to school today..."  
  
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Sean moving his hands emphatically... speaking in sign language.  
  
Perhaps he had erred, Harry wondered. There are too many... too many...  
  
Voldemort laughed inside of his head. Avada Kedavra!  
  
Lily's screams shot through Harry like white iron, but he could not summon the Patronus... not yet... if he did, the Narhassa students would swarm him... they needed to get inside first... hurry...  
  
"Hurry..." Harry begged, but before he could see if the Narhassa students were obeying him, Harry fell to the ground. While he was not unconscious, he found himself crippled with hopelessness.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
And then, suddenly, his horrific memories shifted before his eyes to something he knew all too well. No longer were they discrete images, or the vague sounds of his parents... they were real. It was happening again...  
  
Where are we?  
  
It was Cedric Diggory speaking inside Harry's mind. Harry closed his eyes, to stem the flow of tears.  
  
Did anyone tell you the cup was a Portkey?  
  
"Make it stop," begged Harry, his voice so soft in his ears. "I give up... no more... please..."  
  
Nope, said Harry's own voice. Is this supposed to be part of the task?  
  
He knew that Ron was kneeling by his side and shaking him, but it was no use... he was back to the night of Voldemort's Resurrection, with Cedric by his side.  
  
I dunno, said Cedric. Wands out d'you reckon?  
  
Yeah... replied Harry.  
  
"Cedric," cried Harry, as depression and angst torched his soul like a roaring fire. "Watch out..."  
  
Someone is coming...  
  
"Run Cedric... please run..." cried Harry as the cold hand of defeat rubbed over his entire body. "Please run... don't let it happen."  
  
Kill the spare...  
  
Avada Kedavra!  
  
Harry stared into Cedric's shocked, confused eyes... completely lifeless and cold orbs that once served as the eyes of one of the most honorable people Harry had ever known.  
  
After tonight... Ron, Sean and Hermione... they will all be staring at me like that... killed by Redetyor or Voldemort...  
  
We are all going to die tonight, realized Harry. And nothing can stop that.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Harry, Harry!" cried Ron, trying to shake his shoulder.  
  
"Run Cedric... please run..." cried Harry, tears flowing down his cheeks.  
  
Ron gave up on Harry for the time being and assessed their situation. Sean was also out, crying out the name Cody for some strange reason. Hermione was holding onto a nearby rock, but otherwise was fighting off the effects of the dementors. As for himself, he could feel the dementors clawing at him, draining the hope out of his bones... yet, he forced himself to know that everything he was feeling now was unnatural.  
  
He needed to see what was going on.  
  
Ron squinted ahead and saw that the dementor's presence was having an effect upon the Narhassa students as well. While none of them had slumped quite yet, they were all turned about in terror.  
  
But where are they? demanded Ron, looking all around him. There was nothing save the empty night.  
  
And then, Ron decided to stop looking behind him, to the side of him and ahead of him... and look up.  
  
The full moon was completely obscured as a black cloud appeared to be descending down upon them. Every dementor Sean had seen from afar was over their heads, floating down like a slow moving ceiling, threatening to crush the hope out of every being beneath them.  
  
And then, Ron noticed one of the Narhassa figures aim a wand at the slow moving ceiling.  
  
It was Jessica.  
  
She flicked her wand twice, with the grace of a fencer. "Expecto Patronum!"  
  
At once, a large, silvery serpent shot forth from her wand, floating into the air with a slithering, but begrudgingly graceful motion. To Ron's awe, the dementors scattered every which way as the serpent approached, its pale white glow casting light upon the twisting and turning wraith-like beings.  
  
And out of the dark, suddenly, called a raspy, cold voice. "Ermetico Patronum!"  
  
The second sight was something that Ron could not believe. Out of the darkness, a large green skull shot into the night sky. At first, Ron thought it was the Dark Mark, but it was missing the serpent aspect. It was a simply enormous skull, crafted out of green swirling smoke.  
  
"Oh no..." cried Hermione, staring at the spectacle, as the green skull began to assault the silver serpent. "Voldemort used an Antipatronus!"  
  
"A what?" blinked Ron, as the creeping dread began to manifest once again.  
  
Hermione looked completely appalled. "I read about it while researching the Patronus... Antipatronus' are created the opposite way. Instead of focusing on the single happiest moment of ones life, one focuses upon the single most depressing, or hateful one. They are specifically geared to attack a Patronus; a Dark Arts counter curse!"  
  
Ron puffed out his cheeks. "Well, Voldemort's got a bunch of hateful moments to choose from... and I don't see Jessica's happy moment outweighing Voldemort's hate. What are we going to do?"  
  
Hermione swallowed nervously and looked down to Harry, who was sobbing and murmuring Cedric's name, and Sean, who was still begging "Cody" not to "leave today."  
  
"There is nothing we can do," said Hermione softly, willing the depression out of her mind. "We need to watch and wait. Once the dementors close in on the Narhassa students, we should get a break... as they start feeding off their joy and hope as well."  
  
Ron sighed and turned back to the spectacle before them.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Hurry up, Seth!" cried Carle, as she cried out again. "Expecto Patronum!"  
  
Redeytor closed his eyes, continuing to focus upon the Sorolith. He could feel the barrier surrounding the statue of the Griffin begin to bend to his will. Once the barrier was gone, the way forward would open up for him.  
  
"What do we do?" cried out a second year English boy.  
  
"It's hopeless!" cried out a fourth year, with a distinctive Scottish accent.  
  
"To hell with that ya'll... let's fuck these things up!" shouted a fifth year American, with a Southern accent.  
  
Thinking that perhaps that wasn't such a bad idea, about twenty lightning bolts shot into the air.  
  
"NO!" shouted Seth... but it was too late.  
  
"Expecto Patronum!" cried out Jessica, her eyes glaring with determination at her serpent. "I cannot hold him off forever!"  
  
The skull bit down hard upon Jessica's serpent, causing her to growl with bestial fury as her knees buckled under the mental stress. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"  
  
About three dementors dropped to the ground after the first barrage of lightning... and almost as if something switched on within them, they began gliding with more meaning. Jessica's Patronus was all but faded out of existence due to Voldemort's counter curse.  
  
Every dementor flew to one side; forming the wall that Hermione had seen one time before, by the lake during her third year, next to Harry and Sirius Black. She recognized this as their offensive formation; they were about to use their only weapons.  
  
"Come on you bloody piece of shite!" cried Seth, focusing on the Sorolith.  
  
"Get em!" shouted an Irish voice, as a barrage of lightning and fire shot upon the wall of dementors, falling another three or four, and leaving well over fifty.  
  
The wall of dementors slid smoothly, and at once, the mob of Narhassa students began to push away, in an ever-shrinking circle around the statue.  
  
"Argh!" cried Jessica, as her spell finally faltered. Voldemort's counter curse ate the rest of her Patronus, the skull making a showing of chewing the silvery serpent in its mouth.  
  
"You want some of this?" cried out an American, as bolts of lightning, fire and now even ice, as some students chose to explore other options, began to rip forth from the Narhassa ranks again... this time only falling one dementor, as Voldemort's skull circled the dementors, bolstering their strength.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"We cannot wait any longer!" protested Ron. "They are about to start administering The Kiss!"  
  
Hermione bit her lip with worry, looking down at Harry.  
  
"You are right," said Hermione at last, "We cannot wait... you've never done a Patronus before, right?"  
  
Ron shook his head frantically. "The magic is too high for me..."  
  
Hermione bit her lip with determination. "What are you trying to use as a happy memory?"  
  
Ron swallowed nervously. "I... was trying to use the trip to Egypt, when Fred and George nearly locked Percy in a pyramid."  
  
That drew a groan from Hermione. "Come on, happier than that!"  
  
Ron closed his eyes, searching desperately. "I... don't really have all that many happy memories, Hermione."  
  
Before Ron could even register the action, Hermione grabbed him close and kissed passionately.  
  
It was nothing like Ron thought it would be like. He had always pictured his first kiss with Hermione to be in a romantic setting, with a slow and heartfelt motion of his lips... nothing so firm and desperate. Nevertheless, he did not want this moment to end. He felt himself loose track of his present situation as he held Hermione close, his mind drowning in the passion of kissing the girl he loved.  
  
Bar none, it was the greatest moment of his life.  
  
And just as quickly, she withdrew, seemingly too panicked to have enjoyed it as much as Ron.  
  
"Now you do!"  
  
Ron's eyes widened... his face was ghostly pale, but he could not help but feel completely elated.  
  
"I... I feel so cheap," he jested, despite the situation.  
  
Hermione grabbed his hand and held out her wand. "On three..."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"AHHH!" cried out an American third year as about six Narhassa students, in addition, were grabbed by the dementors, and thrown into the air to the dementors behind them. The creatures that caught the terrified teenagers quickly unmasked... revealing their faces, nothing more than a lipless hole for a mouth.  
  
"Seth!" cried Carle, in a panic. "Open this door, now!"  
  
And then, without preamble, the entire sky seemed to light up with bright white energy. The six Narhassa students who were grabbed, four girls and two boys of young age, were dropped to the ground as two silver images broke through the dementor wall... one was a bird who ripped through the dementors with a two foot long beak, and the second was a lion, that mauled about six of the shadowy creatures with a stroke of its paw.  
  
"Almost got it..." continued Seth, as he focused hard upon the Sorolith.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Harry's eyes fluttered as the hopelessness faded from his body. He looked up to see Ron and Hermione standing over him, their hands interlocked tightly, each of them holding out their wands with determined glares in their eyes. Sean, also recovering from the effects, was standing up.  
  
Forcing himself to his feet, Harry saw Ron and Hermione's Patronuses tearing through the lines of dementors like paper, scattering the horrid creatures. Wasting no time, Harry grabbed onto Hermione's wand arm with his left hand... to show that he was indeed here, by her side.  
  
"Welcome back, Harry," said Hermione softly, though she did not look at him as she was too busy concentrating upon her Patronus.  
  
He aimed his wand in the direction of the fray and began the incantation. For his memory, he decided to choose the one most clearest in his mind... right here, right now... standing next to his three best friends in the world, and saving the lives of dozens of boys and girls their age.  
  
"Expecto Patronum!"  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Looks like we have some angels on our shoulders," muttered Seth with disdain as a great white stag joined the lion and the raven, throwing about the dementors like rabble. The skull in the air suddenly dissipated... likely as a result of Voldemort canceling his spell, realizing he could not fight off three other Patronuses.  
  
"Never thought I'd say this, but I think we owe Potter and friends one."  
  
Jessica looked back at him slyly. "I told you, I have great taste in guys."  
  
"The way is open," said Redetyor, as at last, the barrier around the Griffin fizzled into nothingness. The Griffin, now free to animate, bowed its stony head to Seth, and took three steps to the side, revealing a stairwell leading down. "Lead them down, and make the preparations. I will be late."  
  
Jessica nodded and turned to the rest of the crew.  
  
"Move your arses," she shouted darkly, "Into the lair!"  
  
With that, the Narhassa students began an unorganized descent down the stairs... with the exception of Seth. With a determined glare in his eyes, he drew a jeweled dagger from his robe sleeve.  
  
"I have a score to settle..."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Oh no!" cried Ron, "They are heading down into Narhassa's Lair!"  
  
Harry held Ron back from charging after.  
  
"Don't worry," said Sean, managing to stay calm. "They still have to dominate Narhassa... from what Alex told me, that will be a long fight."  
  
"What now?" asked Ron, breathing deeply.  
  
Hermione suddenly rasped, grabbing her throat, her eyes budging with terror.  
  
"Hermione!" gasped Harry. "What's wrong?"  
  
She continued hacking, unable to say a single word, drawing the eyes of each of the boys.  
  
"Voldemort!" cried Sean, as he turned around, and suddenly backed into Ron.  
  
"I have an idea," hissed a voice, as cold as death. Ahead of him, his wand was stretched, and glowing a strange shade of orange. "All of you drop your wands... or we will see how long your girlfriend can hold her breath."  
  
It was not just Voldemort, however. Three other figures approached as well, their wands drawn and taking up their flanks. One, a very short and fat man with a cowl over his face and a gleaming silver arm, was without a doubt Peter Pettigrew, or Wormtail.  
  
And Draco, who hid behind no cowl, with the pale moonlight gleaming off his stony countenance, held his wand level at Ron. He looked at Hermione, with fear in his eyes.  
  
If Draco was here, there was no doubt who the final figure was, even with his cowl low about his face.  
  
Harry pointed his wand at Voldemort drawing a sneer from the dark wizard. In a display of force, Voldemort raised his wand. Hermione's feet left the ground, floating into the air in syncopation with the wand. She continued grabbing at her neck, choking to death.  
  
"Let her go, Voldemort... or I'll cast you back to where you belong!" shouted Sean, taking up Harry's flank fearlessly. Harry could see lightning leaping from Sean's fingertips with unbridled fury.  
  
Voldemort calmly dragged Hermione off the side of the mountain, his wand being the only thing holding her up as she hovered in the air.  
  
"You have a choice, Potter... and is it Camaradi?" said Voldemort with such hatred that Harry's eyes began watering; his scar was on fire. "Either drop your wand or... I will cancel the spell upon your little friend here. It is about a four thousand foot drop... I don't think her book smarts will avail her this time."  
  
Harry, having no choice, tossed his wand aside. It landed upon the ground with a clatter. Ron, also, threw his wand away.  
  
"Let her go!"  
  
Voldemort laughed out loud, crudely and mercilessly. "Good. No reason to drag this out any longer... you are so much like your father, Potter... so afraid to cut your losses."  
  
It was a surprise to Harry to hear the voice of the person who spoke next.  
  
"Master," said Draco coldly. "Killing Potter is enough... why waste precious spells upon the Mudblood? Just let her cower in fear, like the rest of her pitiful kind."  
  
Voldemort turned a weary eye toward Draco. "What?"  
  
Draco glared at the nearly unconscious form of Hermione. Harry could see traces of concern within Draco's usually cold eyes. "Her death does not serve any purpose."  
  
Harry could hardly believe his ears... Draco Malfoy was trying to save the life of Hermione.  
  
Voldemort licked his lips and his face brightened with realization. "Oh... I see. You fancy her."  
  
Draco lowered his head, not speaking.  
  
"Tell you what, Draco," said Voldemort, in a painfully bitter tone. "You can use my owl to send flowers to her funeral..."  
  
Before Draco could lift his eyes from his feet, Hermione screamed. Voldemort had released his spell and now pointed his wand at Harry. Harry felt a pain on par with a sword stabbing through his chest as he watched Hermione fall out of sight. In sheer panic, Harry considered diving off the mountain after her... in case there was a chance he could learn to fly on the way down.  
  
"HERMIONE!" screamed four boys... but Harry and Ron were totally helpless to do anything without their wands. Draco became stunned with icy realization, as his wand dropped from his hand and he turned away, unable to watch. He looked nothing more than the first year boy in the Forbidden Forest when Harry and him had encountered Voldemort for the first time.  
  
But, there was one person who was not helpless...  
  
It was blind luck that Voldemort had taken his eyes off of Sean as he turned to deliver a vicious backhand to Draco, sending the fifteen-year-old Malfoy to the ground.  
  
"Question the way I act again... and..."  
  
Voldemort was distracted thankfully, as Sean sprinted to the side of the mountain, his hand outstretched and glowing a brilliant shade of gold. It was clear to Harry that he was using some of his Narhassa power. Ron, Harry, Voldemort, Wormtail, Draco and Lucius all stared at Sean with pure confusion. Before they could train their wands on him, however, he took a nosedive off the summit of Ben Nevis.  
  
Harry's Firebolt, which seemed to have animated itself, perhaps as a result of Sean's glowing hand, toppled through the air and zipped after him.  
  
Voldemort turned back to Harry, with his fierce, murderous glare.  
  
"No matter... No Narhassa wizard will be able to save you."  
  
Draco looked up from the ground at Harry and Voldemort with defeat, as if only now, the horrible truth behind being a dark wizard was hitting him...  
  
But Draco did not act. No one acted... save Voldemort.  
  
Harry would not die this way. Once again, he was cowering behind the tombstone, rocking back and forth, praying for the end to be quick. He was again staring into Cedric's lifeless eyes, praying for a response. Now, he knew what his father felt like that night Voldemort had attacked him... hopelessly doomed, but fighting valiantly to the end.  
  
Doing the only thing that made sense, Harry screamed what he knew to be his last sound and charged Lord Voldemort, raising his fists.  
  
But before he had closed the ten feet that separated them... Voldemort had ample time to say two words; the only two words he'd ever need to say to end Harry's life.  
  
"Avada Kedavra!"  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Sean tumbled through the air, struggling to focus on the Firebolt that was trailing his simple use of Narhassa powers. He dared not linger near the side of the mountain for the Firebolt to fly directly into his hands, for to do so would have given his enemies a chance to hit him with spells.  
  
Flipping himself around, he glared up at the night sky, beckoning the trailing broomstick into his hands. From below him, he could hear Hermione's terrified screams as she descended closer and closer to the ground.  
  
He closed his eyes and focused upon his gifts, forcing the broom closer and closer to him. Using his Narhassa given powers, he could sense the broom approaching his hands.  
  
Come on... come on...  
  
Finally, he reached out above him, grasping hold of polished wood. Wasting no time, he fit the broom between his legs and grasped the handle. Control returned to him as he shot down like a shooting star, in the direction of Hermione's screams.  
  
Breathing labouredly, Sean felt the wind ripping against his face. Unknown to him, he was experiencing the same feeling that Harry had when he had battled the Hungarian Horntail during the first task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. No longer was he flying after Hermione... he was a Chaser, zooming after the Quaffle and working his way to the goal.  
  
His speed having doubled from the combined efforts of gravity and the Firebolt, it was only a matter of seconds before Hermione came into view, twisting and turning in utter panic.  
  
Sean pulled up on his broom, aiming to loop directly underneath Hermione. Leaning forward, he closed the distance with one final push. Sean rushed passed Hermione, and as he passed within arms reach, he grabbed one of her flailing legs.  
  
Spun around by Sean's grab, Hermione clasped Sean tightly, squeezing him with a painful amount of force. Sean pulled up slowly, urging Harry's Firebolt to stop its downward motion. Though heavy with the weight of two, Harry's fine broom obeyed readily, and soon, they were floating in mid-air, neither moving up or down.  
  
Hermione buried her head into Sean's shoulder, sobbing with terror.  
  
"Oh thank you... thank you..." she bawled, clutching him even tighter than before and burying her face into his shoulder.  
  
Sean grabbed hold of Hermione, tightening his legs to maintain his balance. He kissed Hermione's cheek quickly and fiercely, and then held her tight.  
  
"Don't worry, 'mione..." he said firmly, stroking the back of her head as the tension drained out of his body. "Nothing is going to hurt you... not on my watch."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Harry had heard that the last seconds one ones life tended to last forever. Harry closed his eyes and he flung himself at Voldemort... the last thing he saw was a green light blossoming from the end of the Dark Lord's wand.  
  
To Harry's joy, only happy memories flooded into his head. He remembered his first train ride to Hogwarts, where he met the first two people he cared more about than his life itself.  
  
Ron and Hermione.  
  
Ever since his earliest memories of a good life outside of 4 Privet Drive, Ron and Hermione had been a part of them.  
  
Harry turned to his left and saw the look of join on Ron's freckled face as Albus Dumbledore rewarded fifty points to him in their first year. Perhaps hindsight was strange to Harry, but he saw Ron no differently than he had just a moment ago, despite four years of age difference. Harry looked across the table, and saw Hermione, looking the same as well. The changes in each other were so subtle that they had gone unnoticed to Harry, even in his flashbacks, as they had spent so much time together.  
  
He could die happy... for he knew that he was loved.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
(I could be really mean and end the chapter, here... but... golly, I'm not REALLY on Voldemort's A list... I just say I am)  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Harry plowed into Lord Voldemort, who was crying out loud in pain, even before Harry had actually made contact. The two beings went down in a mixed heap of boy and skeletal form. It was then that Harry noticed that Voldemort did not have his wand in his hand... in fact, he had dropped it before Harry had made contact.  
  
Unable to fathom what could have possibly saved him from the impending spell, Harry stared down at Voldemort, who was pinned beneath him.  
  
I do not know what the hell is going on, thought Harry, but I'll take it!  
  
Harry drove his fist into Voldemort's pale, skeletal face. He had to confess... it didn't seem like the Dark Lord Voldemort would be greatly harmed by a punch to the face, but Harry had not really made much of a plan up to this point.  
  
Voldemort screamed a wretched cry of angst, sounding less like a man and more like a dying beast.  
  
In a total stupor, Harry looked at his fist in confusion. "Huh?"  
  
"How does it feel, Voldemort?" cried an anguished voice from behind Harry... and that voice did not belong to Ron.  
  
Before he could continue his attack on Voldemort, however, Lucius and Wormtail, who apparently forgot they were wizards under the duress of the situation, pulled Harry off of Voldemort forcefully.  
  
It was Seth Redetyor who drew everyone's attention. Harry gasped with shock as he saw a dagger sticking out of Seth's own arm. In that same arm, clutched between bleeding fingers, was the Sorolith.  
  
During this distraction, Ron wasted no time in trying to gather Harry and his wands... only to be deterred by a blast of lightning from Seth Redetyor, striking him firmly in the chest and sending him sprawling to the ground.  
  
"No you don't, Weasley," hissed Seth, in between gasps of pain. "No one moves... NO ONE!"  
  
Seth withdrew the dagger from his own arm, in a fury, and stabbed himself again, crying out in pain.  
  
Voldemort reciprocated his action, wreathing in agony. Harry shook off the appalled Lucius and Wormtail and glanced down at his hands. Voldemort's arm was gushing with black ichor and the same substance covered Harry's palms.  
  
Seth drew the dagger from his arm a third time and held it up to his own neck. Had the situation been any different, Harry might have thought this somewhat comical.  
  
"You three," sneered Seth, as he rested the knife against his own throat and looked to the stunned and appalled Draco, Lucius and Wormtail. "Drop your wands... or I'll kill your master."  
  
Harry watched as the two Deatheaters turned to the Dark Lord.  
  
So this was Seth Redetyor's trump card, thought Harry. This is what made him completely fearless, and even hopeful that Voldemort would be up here, planning his ambush. He must have strengthened his bond with Voldemort using the Sorolith... so that he was no longer just a one-way simulacrum. He could now deliver pain to Voldemort, rather than just take it.  
  
Ingenious... if not rather desperate... There was no doubt to Harry that every bit of pain Voldemort felt, Seth likely felt it just as keenly.  
  
"Do it!" hissed Voldemort, cradling his wand arm.  
  
Lucius and Wormtail both dropped their wands to the ground. Draco, however, held his arm steady.  
  
"Drop the wand, Draco," said Lucius shortly.  
  
Draco clearly wanted to do anything other than that, but he obeyed his father, and dropped the wand to the ground.  
  
Seth outstretched his bloody arm, using the same power Sean had used to summon Harry's broomstick, and all four wands tumbled through the air toward Seth, who caught each on in his weak hand.  
  
"It seems..." panted Seth (it was clear to Harry he was loosing a lot of blood) "... life is not without a sense of irony." Seth looked to Harry. "I give you the chance you've always wanted, Potter.  
  
Harry stared at Redetyor intensely.  
  
"When I am gone, pick up your wand... and do as you please to the one who slaughtered your parents."  
  
Redetyor continued to skulk toward the staircase descending down into Narhassa's Lair, as pale as a ghost.  
  
"Consider it your reward... for saving us from the Dementors," coughed Seth, his very pale face lined with victory as a trail of blood followed him. "Once the powers of Narhassa flow through my veins, I will have the power to sever my connection with our Dark Lord here. If you kill him, the world will never utter the name Voldemort with fear again."  
  
Voldemort's form trembled with tension, anger and frustration as he stared from Harry to Redetyor. Even Harry, despite Voldemort's snake-like appearance, could read the fear on his face.  
  
"Once his bond with me is gone..." trailed off Seth as he began descending down the stairs. "... I think he'll be out of tricks."  
  
Before fading from view completely, however, Redetyor fixed Harry with an intense stare.  
  
"So long as you stay above these stairs... you may live. Start down these steps and try to stop the inevitable, and all your actions tonight will be for naught... for the Boy Who Lived will die by my hands."  
  
Harry swallowed, struggling for a breath of air. The tension hung in the cold night like a pillow over his face.  
  
"That is all, Potter," said Seth, vanishing out of sight down the stairs. "Happy hunting."  
  
Without a word, Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived; survivor of three Killing Curse attempts, picked up his wand and approached the murderer of his parents, and his followers: every person who was responsible for the way his life turned out.  
  
Lucius, Draco, Wormtail... and Voldemort.  
  
Ron was not sure if he wanted to watch or not as he rose from the ground unsteadily, recovering from his shock of lightning.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Next Chapter: Voldemort and friends fate and the final showdown within the belly of Narhassa's Lair... and expect a tragic shock.  
  
WARNING: Next Chapter will be Rated R... for reasons that will be made clear as you read. If you are under 17, I expect a written note from your parents saying that it's ok. Right... ok, like that'll happen. Just be warned, it does get rather angsty from this point on. 


	24. The Will to Survive

Chapter 24: The Will to Survive  
  
It was like something out of a dream, thought Harry, as he cautiously drew near the four kneeling beings. At first, Harry felt the temptation to pinch himself... to verify the fact that this was indeed real life.  
  
He stopped next to Lucius Malfoy, who glowered at Harry with contempt. Within Harry's head, he could hear the voice of Malfoy's father... as Harry speculated what the man was likely to be thinking.  
  
How could it come to this? How could I, one of the most powerful and wealthiest wizards in the world... be at the mercy of a fifteen-year-old boy.  
  
Harry passed over Malfoy, now standing before Wormtail. The large man who had betrayed his father was sweating profusely, emitting a sort of sickening whine that made Harry just want to kick him. Following the same pattern, his voice entered Harry's head.  
  
Not again... why is my lord so powerful, yet so helpless. Not again...  
  
With a labored gait, Harry stood over Draco. Unlike his father who bore a murderous glare, and Wormtail who was only not throwing himself at Harry's feet for mercy because of the Dark Lord's presence, Draco looked down at the ground. Harry could not speculate what Draco was thinking, and did not want to.  
  
And, Harry did not need any speculation as to what Voldemort was saying, for Voldemort spoke quite loudly and coldly.  
  
"So, it appears that an age old truth has once again proven itself; it is better to be lucky than good."  
  
Harry stared at Voldemort... who still bore with him a fierce pride in his white, skeletal form. His deep red eyes swam with untold power and his skinny, frail looking frame was still taut without defeat.  
  
Voldemort leered devilishly at Harry as he leveled the wand at Voldemort's forehead.  
  
"Unlike your parents, Potter... I will die with dignity and not squeal out your name, like pigs lined up for the slaughter."  
  
A tear rolled down Harry's cheek, as his wand hand shook with rage and angst.  
  
"The time for glorifying yourself... is at an end, Voldemort," said Harry slowly, with a shaking voice.  
  
Voldemort smirked evilly, his red eyes narrowed and his snake-like face pointed in defiance. "Oh no, Potter... go ahead. Hit me with the Avada Kedavra curse. It won't be enough... I never run out of tricks. You will see me again; perhaps not for a year, perhaps not for ten years... perhaps not for fifty... but I always return."  
  
Harry shook his head. "Not this time..."  
  
It was not Voldemort, nor any of his followers that spoke next, but it was Ron, who screamed out into the night from behind Harry.  
  
"Guess again," laughed Voldemort. "I am not going anywhere."  
  
Harry whirled around as Ron's scream became a strangled cry for help. In the dark night, it appeared Ron had gained over two hundred pounds, swelling up to Dudley's size. Yet, when he staggered toward Harry, the sinister truth of the matter became clear.  
  
A large, twenty-foot serpent was coiled around him, constricting... and squeezing.  
  
"Give me your wand, Potter," said Voldemort's voice from behind him. "Or Nagini will grind your little friends bones into powder."  
  
"Ron..." Harry mouthed as Ron, despite the massive weight of the snake, continued to stagger toward him. His blue eyes were widened in terror as he rasped and groaned. Nagini hissed loudly, and Harry could visibly see every part of the serpent tense up... and constrict his best friend.  
  
"NO!" shouted Harry, walking over to Voldemort and driving a fist into his face. "You let Ron go... or... I will do it! I'll kill you, here and now!"  
  
Voldemort's head spun to the right under the impact of Harry's fist, but if Harry had caused him any pain, it was well hidden. The Dark Lord turned his eyes back to Harry, laughing evilly.  
  
"Nagini, on the count of three, snap his spine..." said Voldemort.  
  
Ron let out a muffled gasp and a wheeze, as at last, his strength failed him. He topped over to the ground, giving into the snake.  
  
Not, however, before rasping out three words.  
  
"Harry... kill... him..."  
  
"One..." murmured Voldemort, waving his finger in the air.  
  
Harry held his wand in a shaky hand. "You'll... you'll kill him anyway... you showed me that with Herm..."  
  
"Two..." simpered Voldemort, his face lined with amusement.  
  
Tears were now flowing down Harry's cheeks. "Have you no honor!" cried out Harry in frustration.  
  
"Three..." hissed Voldemort. "Kill him, Nagini."  
  
Ron let out an agonized wail, as the serpent tightened his coil around Harry's best friend, causing his cheeks to puff up and his eyes to bulge wide. It was clear that Voldemort was not bluffing. The snake continued to tighten the coil, and a sickening crack was heard... no doubt a few ribs... causing Harry to loose the last of his resolve.  
  
Harry screamed, for despite no magical bond between him and Ron... he felt like it was him about to die.  
  
"STOP PLEASE!" begged Harry, waving his hands frantically, unable to bare the thought of loosing his best friend. "Get up, leave...fly away... Apparate out... take your followers with you... I don't care. Don't kill him!"  
  
Voldemort rose to his feet, glaring down at Harry from his grand height. There was a lengthy pause between the Dark Lord and The Boy Who Lived. After a moment, Ron's cries faded with volume into a low moan, as Voldemort waved his hands in Nagini's direction. The snake had loosened up his hold on Ron.  
  
"I find your terms... acceptable, Harry Potter."  
  
Wormtail and Lucius both stood up as well, silent in their Master's presence. Draco eventually stood as well, unable to look at Harry.  
  
"Grab hold of Wormtail's hand," Voldemort instructed. "It is a Port Key back to the... base of operations, when I desire it to be."  
  
Lucius and Wormtail both complied as Lucius grabbed hold of the silvery metallic hand. Wormtail grabbed his artificial hand with his real one, as Voldemort clasped a free spot as well.  
  
And then, all three looked expectantly to Draco.  
  
"Come. Now," demanded Voldemort.  
  
Draco turned away, not saying a word.  
  
"Draco..." said his father with concern. "Grab on... we are leaving now."  
  
Draco walked away toward the side of the summit, looking down. At first, Harry thought that Draco was considering jumping for reasons of guilt, however, he turned back, staring at his father.  
  
"I'm done with this. Smoke you, and your pathetic schemes." Draco scowled, a fierce pride shining through with his words.  
  
Voldemort sneered at Draco. "You miserable little traitor..."  
  
Draco glared hard at the Dark Lord. "Never once... did I... Draco Malfoy... swear allegiance to you... now, you better leave before Potter changes his mind, since, after all, you are at his mercy once again."  
  
At first, Harry thought Voldemort might very well abandon Wormtail's arm in favor of rushing Draco, however, he held his rage in check.  
  
"Son, get over here now!" said Lucius angrily, but with a pleading twinge. "You have no place to go... you are wanted by the Ministry, you are expelled from Hogwarts... if you turn your back on Our Lord now... you will wind up in Azkaban for certain."  
  
Draco looked to Harry, whose face remained stony with indecision. He looked to the tangled form of Ron... and then, to the stars above.  
  
"I've been in Azkaban all my life," said Draco. "Get out of here, Father... seek to please that monstrosity of a Dark Lord, and see if your dreams come true."  
  
It happened so quickly...  
  
Voldemort scowled so deeply, that Harry thought Draco might turn to stone. "You and Potter, young Malfoy... you and Potter will never spend a minute in Azkaban... I will insure you both die miserable and painful deaths."  
  
Voldemort then turned to Harry, completely livid from Draco's betrayal. "And let the death of another be on your conscience, Potter. Only this time Potter... you will know true loss."  
  
Harry's face drained completely white.  
  
"Nagini..." said Voldemort, his voice drawling over the raging, dark wind. "Kill the spare..."  
  
"Draco!" shouted Lucius desperately. "Draco, please grab on!"  
  
Harry suddenly leapt back to awareness as both Draco and him leveled their wands at Voldemort at the same time.  
  
Ron screamed in agony, and was abruptly silenced as a snap cracked through the air like the whip of death.  
  
And then... Ron was very silent.  
  
"Stupefy!" cried out both boys...  
  
... however, they only hit air as the metallic arm of Wormtail swallowed up the three men... and dropped to the ground, for the body that supported it was gone, along with the Dark Lord and Lucius.  
  
"Ron!" cried Harry as a rushed over to where Nagini had been. The mysterious serpent, which had appeared out of thin air, had returned to it... leaving only a very battered looking body behind.  
  
Harry dove next to Ron, grabbing him.  
  
"Harry..." muttered Ron weakly, his eyes fluttering and focusing on Harry. His body was limp... so limp... and weightless, as if all the tension and fight that Harry knew to be a part of Ron was gone. He blinked wearily at Harry with fading blue eyes. "I'm sorry..."  
  
"Shut up, shut up," scowled Harry. He snapped his head up... looking for help... looking for anything to help him, but spied only one person.  
  
"Malfoy, please! Help!" cried Harry, turning back to Ron, whose life was fading fast.  
  
Draco looked at Harry and turned his back, walking away. "Nagini crushed him, Potter..." he replied coldly, "He's dying."  
  
With a slow trudge, he approached the entrance of Narhassa's Lair, leaving Ron and Harry to speak for what Draco clearly thought to be the last time.  
  
"I'm sorry..." continued Ron, as a drop of blood formed at the corner of his mouth. "You are... my friend."  
  
"Stop talking, Ron," sneered Harry forcefully, grabbing Ron's head and cradling it on his lap. "You aren't going to die! You can't die! I won't let you..."  
  
Ron closed his dim blue eyes and his head lulled back. Harry could see his best friend slipping away from him. Loosing all semblance of control, Harry buried his head into Ron's forehead, his scar pressing down hard against Ron's skin. Harry could feel his scar throb with pain as he touched Ron's quickly cooling skin. It was as if the marking upon his forehead was absorbing Ron's essence itself, leaving only a cold shell behind.  
  
"Tell Hermione... that... I..." trailed off Ron, but he never got to finish the sentence before he fell silent... and motionless.  
  
This cannot be happening... it is insane...it makes no sense... Ron did nothing to anyone...  
  
"Wake up, Harry," he whispered to himself. "Wake up... this is a nightmare..."  
  
All the tricks in the world could not dispel this horrible dystopia.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Sean and Hermione appeared over the summit of Ben Nevis once again, having recovered from their fall and their own shock.  
  
The scene before them was one of pure trauma. Harry cried bitterly over the body of someone who had fallen; Voldemort and his gang where nowhere in sight... and there was one other boy, with his hand against the Griffin statue, staring down at his shoes.  
  
Sean landed the broom speedily, and both rushed to Harry's side.  
  
"Oh God!" screamed Hermione as they saw the light of the moon reflecting off ginger hair, which lay matted upon a rock. "This is a trick; Voldemort is tricking us into thinking its him!"  
  
Hermione nearly tackled Harry as she rushed to Ron's side in her attempt to prove that the body on the ground was not Ron... but some horrible ploy, used to demoralize them. But, after a single second or two of inspection, Hermione broke down into anguished sobs once again, burying her face into Ron's deadened shoulder.  
  
Sean wiped the tears from his own eyes as the scene tugged at his own emotions. He could not draw any closer, however. Instead, he drew away and approached Malfoy, who glared down the stairwell, descending into the lair of Narhassa with an emotionless, intense expression.  
  
"Why... are you so depressed?" asked Sean, sniffling and again wiping the tears out of his eyes. "Isn't this what you wanted?"  
  
Draco looked over his shoulder at Sean, his intense gray eyes piercing him deeply.  
  
"Just because I'm the a Slytherin, the son of a coward and good looking doesn't mean I get my jollies off seeing corpses," Draco stared at Sean with no hint of sarcasm in his eyes. "Ron Weasley was my bitter enemy... so don't expect me to shed any tears."  
  
Sean stared up at Draco. "It was your betrayal that brought them all up here without a weapon!"  
  
"Oh yeah right," snorted Draco. "Like the sword was going to stop Voldemort from having his twenty-foot long python crush his spine."  
  
The smaller boy stared at Draco. "I guess we will never know, huh?"  
  
Draco did not reply. "Sod off... if Redetyor wakes up Narhassa, many more will join Weasley. Go get what's left of the Dream Team and tell them we still have a job to do."  
  
"WE?" snapped Sean. "Why the hell would we trust YOU?"  
  
Draco calmly reached into the back of his robe and withdrew a small backpack from beneath the folds. He unbuckled it quickly and withdrew from it... the Sorting Hat.  
  
"Give it here!" shouted Sean, his hands flaring again with electric energy.  
  
Draco unfolded the extremely large hat, and, to Sean's curiosity, reached within. To Sean's further amazement, Draco drew out a long, silvery blade. Sean's jaw dropped as he tried to speak.  
  
"Go get Potter and Granger," said Draco, testing the balance of the blade. "Tell them we keep moving or Weasley died for nothing."  
  
Sean swallowed a lump in his throat and turned from Draco, running back.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Ron...  
  
Even before Hermione, there was Ron. Ever since the first train ride to Harry's new home, Harry and Ron had been inseparable. They laughed at the same time, they snorted at the same time... he was the brother Harry never had.  
  
Ron...  
  
The wide-eyed boy who had given Harry confidence in times where there was none to be had... inspirations when there was nothing but bleakness... and friendship when it was in short supply.  
  
Ron...  
  
The Boy Who Knew Sacrifice; who had allowed himself to nearly die their first year to get Harry through to the Sorcerer's Stone in his chess game... who had stood up to Sirius Black with a broken leg... and now, who had stood at his side while he faced the Dark Lord, no longer afraid.  
  
First, there was James Potter... then Lily Potter... then Cedric Diggory... all names that brought shame to Harry's mind. However, Harry knew now, and for the years to come, the name Ron Weasley would be burned in his soul forever. He would not forget this day, as long as he lived...  
  
... and he would have his revenge.  
  
Harry knew Sean had approached him from behind; he knew Hermione was still crying on his shoulder... and he knew Ron was dead, lying in front of him, with a peaceful look upon his pale face. His freckles seemed to have melted back into his skin, graying over with death.  
  
Harry calmly lifted his head from Ron's, staring down at his best friend. He put his grabbed the red-haired boy's still warm wrist, and grabbed his hand, as they had done some many times before; just a shake, nothing more.  
  
What am I going to do now? thought Harry, paralyzed with confusion.  
  
And then, the answer seemed to enter his head... in a distant, but soft voice.  
  
Take my wand, Harry, said a voice inside his ear... the voice of a dead best friend.  
  
Harry glanced over to the side, and saw Ron's wand, lying upon the ground, neglected and abandoned. As he released Ron's hand, he methodically scooped up his best friend's wand.  
  
Whoa... can you actual...  
  
Harry blinked, shaking his head.  
  
"We are going to do this together, Ron," he said softly, looking at the wand, and then back down to his friend.  
  
Without another word, Harry rose and nearly bumped into Sean, who was about to clear his throat and speak. The raven-haired boy looked down at Sean, with determination written in his eyes.  
  
"Comfort Hermione..." he said lowly, his voice a little more than a growl of angst and sorrow.  
  
Sean looked at Harry. "I'm coming with you, Harry. I'm not going to let you face what's down there alone."  
  
Harry glared at Sean coldly.  
  
"Where I am going, and what I am going to do... I do not want you to see, hear, or be a part of."  
  
Sean glared at Harry. "If you think killing every Narhassa student, and slaying Redetyor and Jessica will bring back Ron... you are wrong!"  
  
Harry grabbed Sean by his shoulders and practically lifted the shorter boy into the air. "Ron's death will be justified... and it will be justified with blood!"  
  
"Harry," said Sean, grabbing Harry's shoulders as well, though he could not hold with nearly the same strength. "There is nothing I can say to console you... but I know my friend, Harry Potter, is still in control. I can see it in your eyes. If you kill these students in cold blood, you will never forgive yourself."  
  
Harry's eyes remained stony. "Look, Sean... I want you to take Hermione... and leave. She needs time to mourn, and I want you there to stop her from doing anything stupid. I have no time to mourn," snapped Harry, looking bitter. "I'm the Boy Who Fucking Lived... and I have to save the fucking day."  
  
"Harry..." stammered Sean, shaking his head. "I don't want to loose another friend tonight..."  
  
Harry released Sean's shoulders and pushed past him, continuing the rest of the way to Malfoy. "You won't. Now, see to Hermione and get out of here."  
  
"Take care of yourself, then..." said Sean shortly.  
  
It felt bad to know that he had not a single shred of good will left in his bones; he could not even reply to Sean.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"You have guts, Potter," said Draco, holding the sword of Gryffindor over his shoulder. Harry, with his face set into a scowl, his hair in complete dishevel, and his cheeks still drained and lurid in the pale moon light reminded Draco of a man risen from the grave, with only one thought on his mind... destruction.  
  
"You..." growled Potter low, tears still flowing down his face. "You... have so much to pay for."  
  
Draco lowered his eyes, his confidence failing him. "I'm ready to start."  
  
Harry looked at the sword of Gryffindor, the flat of the silvery, polished blade resting on Draco's shoulder. He did not question it and nor did he ask for it.  
  
"Hermione and Sean are leaving," said Harry, his face paving over with indifference. "I do not want them to see what I've become... but I trust you won't mind."  
  
Draco cackled with amusement and swung the sword of Gryffindor out, testing its balance. "I don't spook easily, Potter. Living under the same roof as Father Lucius, Mother Narcissa, and Uncle Voldemort for the past week has officially made me worth my weight in cat scans... when we get off this bloody rock, I'm probably going to commit myself to St. Mungo's."  
  
Harry showed no sign of even hearing Malfoy's possible joke, instead, he just stared at Draco with an unreadable, indifferent mask.  
  
Malfoy matched Harry's stare with his own, fierce, pointed countenance. "I have chosen my side, Potter. I am against Voldemort... and I am against Redetyor. I think this means we are on the same side."  
  
Harry's eyes trailed slowly from Draco's face to the sword, slung casually over his shoulder.  
  
"I see you've found some bravery beneath your worthless hide, or else you would not be wielding that sword."  
  
Malfoy extended the sword of Gryffindor to Harry. "Want it?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "No... it will not let me wield it right now. You holding the sword now is proof of what I suspected all along."  
  
Draco stared at Harry expectantly.  
  
"It doesn't require a blood relation to Gryffindor to use his sword ..." said Harry smoothly, his emotions staying clear of his voice, "... just those who would do as he would in spirit. Anyone who is acting selflessly against evil can wield his sword."  
  
"Then, wield it," said Draco. "I'm sure you have the memo somewhere: A Malfoy keeps a short supply of selflessness."  
  
Harry shook his head, declining his offer.  
  
"I... know what I'm fighting for now... and it isn't selfless. It is for revenge," said Harry, his voice lined with misery and defeat.  
  
"Redetyor, Jessica... the Students of Narhassa... and then Voldemort... they will pay... they will all pay for tonight. They will scream Ron's name as I strike down each of them! I will send them all to hell tonight... and they can tell the devil that Ron sent them..." Harry's eyes practically flared with emerald fire as he stared at Draco. "... it's time to burn them... BURN them all."  
  
Harry lowered his head, clenching his fists with anger as Malfoy arched his silvery brow in a display of astonishment.  
  
"Well said, Dark Lord Potter," drawled Draco, in a mocking tone. "I'll hold the women while you ravage them."  
  
Harry glared for a moment at Draco, but Malfoy's sarcastic humor was very much lost on the more than slightly traumatized boy.  
  
Without a word in his own defense, he extended his hand to Draco. "You saved my life from the stream... You tried to save Hermione... you chose certain death to walk away from Voldemort... I will trust you, again, for these reasons."  
  
Draco nodded, his face a mask of pallid indifference. "I'm so glad that's settled. Now, onward my messy-haired companion... we have virgins to rape, boys to slaughter, ex-girlfriends to bludgeon to death with rocks, scum to purge and fallen angels to smack up."  
  
Despite Malfoy's obvious sarcasm, Harry pointed two wands at Draco.  
  
"Don't tempt me... I'm a bit unstable right now, in case you haven't noticed."  
  
With a snort, Draco began to descend down the stairs. "Thanks for telling me that little secret of yours. Feels good to be in the inner circle of trust."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Lumos," muttered Harry as they began their descent down the spiraling staircase of Narhassa's Lair, lighting their way. In his other hand, he clutched Ron's wand... perhaps it was Harry's imagination, but it seemed to be alive with its own unique power.  
  
The sound of a constant rumbling filled Harry's ears, emanating from below. A heavy, hot wind was gusting from beneath them, causing beads of sweat to appear upon Harry's brow. The air smelled awful, a mixture of rotten eggs and thick must. Harry's skin bubbled with a rage that needed to be expressed as he descended down through the thick blackness.  
  
The hum of energy continued to emit through Harry's head as the Slytherin and the Gryffindor continued their descent into the darkness. The ancient stone walls were raw and uncut, with sharp, jagged rocks protruding from the tunnel. It was almost as if this spiraling descent was crafted using a giant corkscrew.  
  
A low chant began to fill Harry's ears though the sight down the stairs was extremely limited.  
  
"Listen..." said Malfoy crisply. "Do you hear that?"  
  
Harry cocked his head.  
  
Ximitxith... Xoxmomox... Ximixomx... Ximzoaxix  
  
The words made no sense in Harry's mind, but they were repeated over and over again, in oscillating voices.  
  
"Yeah," said Harry. "What does it mean?"  
  
Malfoy bit his lip slightly. "I don't know... it sounds like an ancient Celtic Mantra of some kind."  
  
"Let's keep going," said Harry, his face stony with determination.  
  
It felt as through they were descending the unworked, natural stone steps for nearly a half-hour, before green light began to appear, emanating from the darkness below.  
  
"Nox," said Harry quietly, not wishing for his light to give them away. While Harry's wand went out, the green glow from below gave the two boys enough light to see from.  
  
"It's your call, Potter," whispered Draco as he prowled down the stairs, his sword upon his shoulder. "Are we aiming to kill, or wound?"  
  
When Harry heard the question put that way, Harry wanted to demand death. They all deserved it. If it wasn't for Redetyor, none of this would have happened. Ron and him would probably be playing Exploding Snap in the water Common Room... while Hermione kindly lectured them that "Exploding Snap" will not prepare them properly for their OWLs  
  
But because of Narhassa... Ron was dead... and now, there would be hell to pay.  
  
Just defend yourself, Harry...Harry could hear Ron's voice within his head, telling him what Ron would say had he been right next to him.  
  
"Just defend yourself," said Harry at last, holding out both wands from his body.  
  
Can you actually hea... Ron's voice trailed off.  
  
Draco nodded and finally, the stairwell ended abruptly into a long corridor. The hum had only increased in volume, as did the chanting, which now rang out loudly in Harry's ears.  
  
Draco took point, twirling the broadsword of Gryffindor with a significant degree of talent as Harry followed him, both wands tracing for a potential threat. A heavy rush of hot wind was whipping from ahead of them, blowing both boys' hair about wildly.  
  
"Come on, we may already be too late!" shouted Draco, who began running against the fast blowing wind stream.  
  
Harry matched his speed, sprinting from behind.  
  
The corridor continued, though the walls around them opened up into a vast chamber, lit by a surrealistic green glow. The corridor itself remained intact, suspending over a very long fall into infinite blackness, like some sort of bridge. There was one other bridge in this huge room, which intersected perpendicularly with the bridge Harry and Draco began to cross, forming a T-junction.  
  
Two Narhassa students were rushing across the second bridge, aiming to intersect with Harry and Draco. Upon seeing the two wizards, both Narhassa students slowed to a stop.  
  
"It's Potter!" exclaimed one, a female with a British accent, no older than fourteen. "And Malfoy!"  
  
"Blast em! We'll show em' the powah of Nahhahsah," exclaimed the second, probably a seventeen year old male with a distinctive New York accent.  
  
Both boys raised their hands, discharging two lightning bolts at Harry and Draco. Harry fell to one knee.  
  
"Stupefy!" he exclaimed.  
  
Effecto! Sounded Ron's voice, from a week ago, when they fought Malfoy. The Force Charm was always one of Ron's favorites.  
  
Three things happened all at once...  
  
First, Draco outstretched the blade of Gryffindor, intercepting both lightning bolts. Instead of feeling the electricity course through his body, the blade began to sizzle and come alive with energy and the lightning ran up and down the shaft of the blade, sparkling with white light.  
  
Secondly, as Harry took aim with his own wand and cast the Stunning Charm, Ron's wand seemed to instinctively follow, and suddenly, a ripple of distortion blasted unwarrantedly from the tip.  
  
And thirdly, the purple beam of the stunning charm mixed with the spell coming out of Ron's wand, and struck the American Narhassa boy, propelling him off the bridge into the darkness below. He made no sound, for he was unconscious from Harry's Stunning Charm... but also pushed off the bridge by the Force Charm that came out of Ron's wand.  
  
The British Narhassa student shrieked and began to run back the way she came... but Draco was too fast for her. Draco leveled his sword, as if he knew clearly what he was doing. The electricity that circulated up and down the shaft leapt off the blade, in the form of a giant lightning bolt, which struck the girl in her back, sending head over heals, screaming into the dark abyss below.  
  
It had all happened so fast. Harry blinked twice, only now processing the fact that he had just sent a human being to the grave. Harry had always wondered what it would be like to take a human life... he always envisioned it would happen at some point, though he expected that nothing would be able to prepare him for it.  
  
Yet now, standing upon the bridge, watching the swirling darkness... no more than fifteen seconds after Harry had sent someone freefalling it, did he known what it was like to be a killer.  
  
Justified. Horribly justified... Harry felt no shame, in fact, he felt exhilarated.  
  
Perhaps I am going insane...reasoned Harry.  
  
A second, younger female had run out onto the perpendicular bridge, as a result of the shrieking... and upon seeing Harry and Draco, shrieked, and ran back the way she came before Harry could train his wands to her.  
  
"Come on!" urged Draco, as Harry followed. If Draco had any conflictions in taking the life of a girl around his age, he did not show it. "So much for the surprise attack."  
  
Harry shook his head, forcibly pulling himself from his own reverie. One emotion stayed fixed in his mind as he sped off after Draco, and while Harry wasn't sure what to call it, he knew it was not remorse.  
  
I'm glad I killed him... I'm glad...  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"The Sorolith is prepared," said a Narhassa third year boy with a bright smile, though he looked a bit drained. He was the youngest Chaser upon the Narhassa Quiddich team.  
  
Upon arriving in the room with two bridges, half of the Narhassa students had continued straight, led by Redetyor to conduct the final preparations of the Sorolith by draining a bit more of their soul energy and activating the Sorolith. The other half, led by Carle, were beginning their attacks upon Narhassa, forcing Her to take form, and weakening her a bit. When the Sorolith was properly prepared, their assault upon Narhassa would become unified, and, with luck, render her unconscious. To use the Sorolith in their fight, however, they would have to unlock Narhassa first. The barrier around Narhassa, erected by Slytherin, made sure that the Sorolith could never affect Narhassa. Thus, Carle and the other half of the Narhassians were busy shooting lightning bolts at the fallen angel now, sapping her energy.  
  
It was then Seth's plan to extract all of Narhassa's power into the Sorolith, and drink deeply from it... once the being was dominated.  
  
And so far, everything was going perfect to plan.  
  
Seth looked to the younger boy with a smirk, as the he handed Seth the Sorolith. "Good, Malacardi... good..."  
  
While still looking very pale, Carle had been able to heal his mangled arm with some regenerative spells she learned in Durmstrang when she was a student there.  
  
"I just hope Carle has been able to weaken her a bit during the preparations. If not, when I release the second lock, she'll probably slay us all where we stand," laughed Seth, tossing the small orb into the air, and catching it again.  
  
The other boys and girls didn't seem to this sentiment all that funny.  
  
"Let's go," said Seth as he led his group out of the preparation room.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Draco and Harry sprinted down the narrow bridge and turned ninety- degrees, giving chase to the girl who had spotted them. The humming continued to grate upon Harry's nerves, as did the hollow chanting within his ears that would not subside.  
  
Ximitxith... Xoxmomox... Ximixomx... Ximzoaxix  
  
Eventually, they made it out of the large, bottomless room and continued down a winding corridor, the sound of humming and chanting becoming more distant in their ears. Harry could hear the footfalls ahead of them as the younger girl ran for help, though the bending turns did not ever permit them sight of her.  
  
Harry became aware of a mist that was gathering at his feet as they ran, swirling it around their legs. The green fog obscured the ground below and the hot air Harry had felt bellowing in his face only seemed to intensify.  
  
We must be getting close...  
  
And, without warning, the winding corridor suddenly opened up into a huge hall, well over two hundred yards by two hundred yards. The hall itself with illuminated by a ghostly green light that did not seem to stem from any single source. Very high above them was a domed ceiling, built with alien technology that could apparently support an entire mountain atop of it. It was clear to Harry now why the heat had been so intense, for half of the hall seemed to be carved up with about seven deep canals, at the bottom of which a stream of lava flowed beneath. What the purpose of these cuts through the chamber were, Harry could only guess.  
  
White flashes of light crackled and ripped across the humming dome as Draco and Harry stared across the chamber, to where about fifteen Narhassa students were discharging currents of lightning. Nearly all of the students were on their knees, for a reason Harry could not figure out.  
  
"Potter and Malfoy are here!" shouted the girl they had been chasing; she was nearly half way across the hall, having run in between two lava channels.  
  
Despite being so far away, Harry could tell who the first person was to react to these words, for the green, sickly glow of the room stained her shoulder-length blond hair a distorting color of light green.  
  
Malfoy rushed continued rushing forward, running upon a strip of ground no more than thirty feet wide... in between two lava channels. The heat within the room was very intense, causing Harry to wipe his brow yet again as he followed Malfoy.  
  
Most of the Narhassa students seemed too weak to rise, but about four were able to muster strength for the task, launching half-hearted lightning bolts at Draco. It seemed that the sword of Gryffindor was considered Narhassa's weakness for a very good reason, as Draco... in a single swing of his blade, absorbed all the magic sent his way... and sent it screaming back upon the shooters, sending the quartet to the ground, shuttering with electric energy.  
  
Now, seeing the girl he loved... bathed in the green light like the Slytherin she could have been, Harry was forced into indecision. Part of him wanted to stop her, yet not harm a single hair on her head.  
  
The other part of him commanded her blood to fulfill his need for justice.  
  
If you can hear me, Harry... stop... you are loosing who you are...  
  
And once again, Ron's voice entered Harry's head, sounding from his right ear. Yet, before his imagination could run away with Ron's voice, he had decided what to do. She would pay for her betrayal... she would pay with her life.  
  
Carle scowled and drew her wand as Harry and Draco approached. Draco skidded to a halt thirty feet from her, with Harry taking his flank.  
  
From this close, it was now clear what the Narhassa students had been doing. They had surrounded a transparent cone of green energy that was situated in the center of the dome.  
  
Harry's eyes widened, for within the cone, was a girl who appeared to be no older than a first year student at Hogwarts, kneeling with fatigue. Messy, disheveled green hair billowed down off her head and cleared her waste. Her olive skin seemed to be the exact same hue as Draco's, for the strange lighting in the chamber strangely affected most color. It was likely that her skin would appear ghostly fair outside.  
  
Indeed, she was a beautiful looking little girl, with innocent looking emerald eyes... again a likely trick of the light.  
  
"Please..." said the small girl monotonically. "Free me..."  
  
Carle spun her wand with the skill of someone who was used to using it before. She leveled it at Draco, and spoke.  
  
"Was Voldemort not enough for you, Potter?" she asked slyly... and soothingly. "You just had to bring yourself down here."  
  
Harry leveled both of his wands at Carle. "Ron's dead... Jessica. Everyone who is responsible for this night will join him."  
  
The news seemed to arch one of Carle's brows, but she quickly regained her composure. The rest of the Narhassa students watched the exchange from slumped positions, either on their knees or on their backs... it seemed as though they had taxed themselves beyond their limits.  
  
Draco simply remained quiet, realizing that it was Harry's turn to do the talking now. Instead, he calmly held his blade at the ready... to take her down in case she turned volatile.  
  
"A real pity," said Jessica, showing no sign of remorse, in fact, an evil smile crossed her face. "I bet its just killing you on the inside... if only you had not meddled with Narhassa."  
  
Harry's eyes screamed, while his voice remained silent.  
  
"But," said Jessica in a soothing whine as she held her wand steady. "You know the old motto... play with matches, and you get burned." Carle then winked at Harry, talking in her soothing, sweet innocent voice. "Too bad you and Malfoy didn't take the hint sooner... your little friend might still be alive."  
  
Harry scowled at Jessica, feeling nothing would be more righteous than giving the Killing Curse right here and now.  
  
"It's your fault, you are why he was up here!" hissed Harry, feeling so betrayed, crushed and defeated that he wondered what the point of striking down Jessica would even be.  
  
Jessica pushed her light green hair out of her eyes, her strikingly beautiful features pulled into a malicious leer.  
  
"Just think: Ron's death and your failure will mark the end of the Wizarding World as you know it... Seth and I will rise as one to the coveted positions of Dark Lords, bringing with us a reign of pure and unequaled dominance."  
  
Jessica chuckled bitterly, twirling her wand between her fingers. "I will, of course, understand if that is of little consolation to you."  
  
Harry closed his eyes, shaking with anguish... now realizing what the point of striking her down would be.  
  
"No more words!"  
  
Without any delay, Jessica took the first move, ceasing her wand's spin and releasing a spell before Harry could even blink.  
  
"Statsto Infallibile!"  
  
Before Draco could bring the sword of Gryffindor to bear, an amber bolt of light struck him heavily in the chest. As the bolt washed over his body, a pillar of golden light exploded from his feet, enveloping him in a swirling embrace. The pale boy was completely stationary, as if frozen within. Doubt suddenly crept into Harry's mind as he prepared to engage the girl he once loved in a duel to the death.  
  
Harry, if you can hear me... said Ron's voice in Harry's ear, from countless times before. I'm here with you...  
  
On instinct, Harry began casting a stream of spells from his wand.  
  
"Stupefy, Impedimenta, Furnunculus!" cried Harry.  
  
Riscaldare, Effetto, Fiacco! sounded Ron's voice in Harry's head.  
  
The stream of spells, which stemmed from alternating wands pushed Jessica back on her heels as she desperately recited the counter curses for each of Harry's hexes. While she did not have the breath to question Harry, her eyes betrayed her perplexed state. No wizard in history had ever been able to master the use of two wands at once... and Harry had never shown the slightest interest in trying before.  
  
Yet, here he was, wielding twice the magic potential without even flinching with effort.  
  
A rainbow of colors shot forth from both Harry and Ron's wand, forcing Jessica on the total defense as she struggled to counter, matching Harry's spells with clashing colors, creating a dazzling, if not blinding display.  
  
Yet, Harry did not let up as he spun his two wands, aiming low, high, and even launched curses off the floor, deflecting them into Jessica's path. Spells ripped, blasted and hissed out of the tip of each wand... and Ron's voice continued to sound in Harry's head, as if he were right there beside him. Little did Harry know that half of his hexes were ones he had never used before; it was as if someone else was casting them through him.  
  
The drained Narhassa students pushed themselves back away from the two wizards, their faces alight with stunned admiration at the sheer complexity of a true wizard's duel.  
  
Jessica continued to retreat and sidestep, trying to avoid being cornered against one of the cavernous drop-offs, leading to a fiery, liquid magma death.  
  
"Petrificus Totalis Expelliarmus!" roared Harry, as he worked his wands in a circular motion, shooting off magnificent blue, red and violet bolts of light.  
  
Cetratus Dislokkata, cried Ron, ringing in Harry's ears.  
  
"Patromum Negatis!" cried Jessica desperately, as she continued backing up, her wand a blur in her hands as she thwarted Harry's hexes. Her eyes widened and sweat was visibly pouring down her face.  
  
It was obvious to Harry that Jessica was, by far, the better duelist. He was not sure how, or where she learned... but if it was not for Ron's wand pumping out curses and hexes twice as fast as Harry could process them, he would have been helpless before her.  
  
Harry's last hex, the Disarming Charm, shot Jessica's wand from her hand with explosive force.  
  
"Accio Wand!" cried Jessica desperately, as the wand did a U turn in midair heading back for her hand.  
  
Yet, before Jessica could catch the wand as it swung around... her arm properly dropped to the ground, victim of a Dislocation Charm that Harry had never once studied. Jessica looked down at her fallen arm with astonishment, wiggling her own fingers and watching them respond.  
  
"Reducto!" cried Harry, a blast of white energy shooting out of his own wand, sending Jessica sprawling to the ground with a screech of indignity. Jessica's wand flew on by, the power of her summoning charm broken. To her horror, it bounced against the ground next to her and skipped off the nearby ledge, into the lava below.  
  
At once, the spell around Draco faded, allowing the pale faced by to blink and shake his head... as he tried to piece together what just happened.  
  
Locomotor Mortis! cried Ron's voice, as a cord of violet energy shot forth from the tip of Ron's wand, binding her legs together. Jessica cried out in frustration as she was rendered helpless.  
  
"Wingardium Leviosa!" scowled the enraged boy as he lifted Jessica off the ground with his spell. With three bold steps, he pushed her forward, holding both wands steady as Jessica's body flew from above solid ground... to above the same lava canal her wand had just been lost in.  
  
"Don't!" cried Jessica, in a terrified voice, shielding her eyes with the one arm she had left. "Mercy! I beg you!"  
  
The rest of the Narhassa students, as well as Draco, dropped their jaws at the amazing result of the duel. None of the Muggles had the energy to stop Harry, as he shook his wand, causing Jessica to feel the reverberations.  
  
Harry scowled. "I'll give you mercy... you'll pay for Ron's death!"  
  
Jessica coughed loudly, the wind still clearly knocked out of her from the Blasting Curse Harry nailed her with. "It isn't my fault! I'm sorry!"  
  
"Yes it is..." sneered Harry, as Jessica's body began to descend into the lava.  
  
The Girl He Loved screamed in terror, "Harry, if you do it... if you kill me... you'll never be the same!"  
  
"I'll never be the same again," muttered Harry darkly, as he continued her descent, his eyes glaring with wicked, twisted sense of justice. "Now, reap what you sow."  
  
Quite surprisingly to Harry, another voice spoke, drawing Harry a bit from his zealous stupor.  
  
"Potter," said Draco, in his usual drawling voice, with no sense of sarcasm or anger, "Do you really think this is how Weasley would want his death to be remembered... the event that turned his best friend into a cold-blooded killer?"  
  
Jessica's descent was promptly halted as Harry lowered his head, digesting Draco's words critically.  
  
"Think about it," said Draco, backing off of Harry.  
  
And Harry did just that... until Malfoy's grave tone broke. Apparently, he could not live with himself almost coming off as genuine.  
  
"But, if you still decide to roast the tart... I'm sure Weasley won't voice a complaint."  
  
That subtle reminder that Ron would not voice anything again was all the push Harry needed as he turned back to his task, lowering Jessica slowly into the lava, his face shaded green from the ominous light within the room.  
  
Jessica's screams of pain began to fill is ears as she neared the surface of the lava, for no doubt the heat was scorching her severely. Harry could feel his own resolve faltering and indecision and confusion began to grip his soul. Killing one Narhassa student in self-defense is one thing... but am I really going to do THIS?  
  
As Harry lapsed, there was one other voice that seemed to make a go at convincing him.  
  
If you can here me..., said the voice of his best friend, ringing within his left ear. I'm not dead... look... don't do this, Harry! Don't turn into Voldemort!  
  
No... said Harry's own voice in his head. He could feel his doubt... for Ron's voice was in his head, speaking of present events. I must be insane... that is the only explanation.  
  
Harry... can you hear me?... I told you once and... I will tell you again, you are NOT a Dark Wizard, and never will be one!  
  
All throughout his descent into Narhassa's lair, Ron's voice had been with him. At first, Harry had dismissed it as remorse; perhaps it was his own guilt trying to manifest Ron to make him seem less distant. Yet, after hearing Ron chanting the words for spells, which had flowed through his wand, and now hearing Ron, giving Harry a pep talk concerning his present situation... there seemed to be more than just a bit of temporary insanity here.  
  
And with a flick of his wrist, Harry shot Jessica up from her descent down to the lava below. The green light of the room upon his face might make him look like a freshly risen zombie, but he was not as mindless as one. Jessica came crashing down upon the ground next to Harry, wandless and defenseless.  
  
"Take your arm," said Harry coldly, "and get out of here... hope that your father has a plan to escape Voldemort's wrath, or you will have wished I dropped you in the magma today, compared to what he'll do to you."  
  
Deciding that questioning her luck would be imprudent, Jessica grabbed up her dislocated arm with her other hand, and began to rush across the hall, to escape the room. Draco also looked at Harry curiously, as if wondering what caused the change in heart.  
  
Jessica did not manage to escape the room, however, before Seth Redetyor and the other half of Narhassa students entered.  
  
Draco held out his sword and closed the distance between him and Harry. "When it rains, it pours... huh?"  
  
All Harry could do was nod.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Yeah, ok... fine... I stink at predicting how many chapters will be left and pre-planning. I know this was supposed to be the last chapter, but I lied. Sue me. (wink)  
  
Next Chapter: Harry managed to do very well against Jessica... and Malfoy could take four drained Narhassa students... but now, having to fight around sixteen... will the sword of Gryffindor be able to absorb all of that, or do Harry and Draco have some serious problems now.  
  
And what's going on in Harry's mind? Is he going insane as his methodical, malicious actions may denote, or is there something deeper at work? Doesn't the voice of Ron in Harry's head seem rather animated, despite being dead... or is Harry becoming delusional.  
  
Stay Tuned 


	25. The Power Within

Chapter 25: The Powers Within  
  
"Any bright ideas, Potter?" exclaimed Malfoy as the sixteen Narhassa wizards fell in behind Redetyor and formed a semi-circle around the two fifteen-year-old boys.  
  
Harry glanced quickly in Draco's direction. "You're the sly, cunning Slytherin... think of something!"  
  
"Sorry Potter," said Draco arching a brow to the tip of his silvery bangs. "My mind just isn't on the game."  
  
Seth folded his arms across his chest with the confidence of a victor. Harry could see that his right arm still possessed much deformity from his torment of Voldemort, though the bleeding was stopped; it was clear that magic was involved in the healing process.  
  
"What more do I have to do, Potter?" asked Seth dourly, as he skulked forward from the group, pacing a few feet before Harry and Draco. His Narhassa students raised their hands, pointing their powerful magical talents at the two boys. "I didn't put your miserable hide in Azkaban... I saved you from Lord Voldemort... and I did not kill you when I had the chance."  
  
Draco snorted before Harry could reply. "You know, Redetyor... I'm here too. I'm getting right sick of everyone giving accolade to just Potter. I would really like some bloody credit too! I've been just as big a pain in your arse!"  
  
Seth lifted his upper lip and a low, throaty chuckle. "You are a toilet bug, Malfoy."  
  
The pallid boy looked slightly miffed. "Well, that was uncalled for."  
  
Ignoring Malfoy, Seth strode past Harry and Draco, approaching the little girl, trapped within the cone of force.  
  
"Behold Narhassa, in all her infinite glory," began Seth placing his hands to the force field around her. The little girl watched Seth with a nervous expression.  
  
Draco rolled his eyes and looked to Harry. "This is the part where he tries to give us a hard on by over-glorifying the success of his objective."  
  
Harry blinked twice and cast a weary glance toward Malfoy.  
  
"So innocent looking..." trailed off Seth as he ran his fingers upon the forcefield, drawing the eyes of the young looking child. "Yet, so deadly... had Slytherin not barred her for the past eight-hundred years, I tend to wonder how things would have changed."  
  
Seth spun around, glaring at Draco and Harry.  
  
"Salazar would still be alive, had he not taken a mortal wound to that sword in your hand, Malfoy," continued Seth with a nod to the silvery weapon. "Well over a thousand years old and Voldemort... heh... he would be his manservant; a mere slave to the will of Narhassa."  
  
Harry looked at Seth dangerously. "And you think you and your pitiful group of boys and girls can dominate such a power?"  
  
Seth cackled and cracked his knuckles. "Ironically, Potter, I was just thinking that. Odds are... yes, we could... but, since you managed to interrupt my dear Carle..." Seth cast a sideways glance to Jessica, who appeared to be rather singed and was still only with one arm. "... Narhassa is not as weak as we'd like her to be."  
  
"Oh, what a big man you are," drawled Draco arrogantly. "I'll save you the job of building up the suspense. You are going to lock us in here and release Narhassa... and make us fight her and weaken her."  
  
Voldemort's simulacrum laughed out loud, and raised a scolding finger to Draco. "Oh no, Malfoy... I'm not going to release Narhassa." Seth turned to Harry, with a smirk upon his face. "Potter is."  
  
Harry lurched, feeling his knees suddenly grow weak as the force of Seth's words took him aback. "Like hell I will!"  
  
Seth fiddled around with the inside pocket of his robes and withdrew a small, round object: the Sorolith. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it over to Harry... the small ball hitting the ground by Harry's feet.  
  
Harry lowered Ron's wand, sticking it into his robe pocket, and picked up the arcane device. This was his first time expecting it closely. The Sorolith itself was no bigger than a tennis ball, with a metallic silver paint. The cover was unremarkable all around, save at one point, where a slight indentation housed a single button, which pulsed red every few seconds.  
  
"You delude yourself, Redetyor," said Harry with a laugh, as he calmly walked toward the nearest lava channel. "This is where your Sorolith is going."  
  
Seth simply laughed. "No it isn't... you need the Sorolith."  
  
Harry stood over the roaring lava down below, feeling the heat scorching his arm as he held the silvery ball over the canal.  
  
"Like I need a lobotomy..." muttered Harry.  
  
Harry felt his fingers slipping around the object as he prepared to end this nightmare once and for all. Without the Sorolith, the second lock over Narhassa would never be opened, and the tremendous power would never be tapped, not by the likes of Voldemort and Redetyor. His victory was all but at hand; he may die, but both Redetyor and Voldemort will have lost the day.  
  
"You feel him inside you... don't you?" asked Seth out of the blue. "Talking to you still..."  
  
Harry's grip suddenly tightened upon the ancient relic.  
  
"Yeah," said Seth, taking Harry's hesitation for a 'yes'. "I do too. Your best friend is a part of us now... trapped within your mind, Harry. Voldemort feels him, I feel him... and you feel him too, Potter."  
  
"What are you talking about?" snapped Malfoy, moving again to Harry's flank. "Toss that damn thing over, and lets see how many of these bastards we can take out before they get us!" Malfoy snorted. "It's either that, or Azkaban for me... or torment at the hands of Uncle Voldemort."  
  
"I can only assume he died after I left," said Seth with a shrug as he took his eyes off Harry to examine his fingernails, a common enough of a gesture for him when he tried to remain completely aloof. "But, sure enough, I could hear his voice within my head, casting those spells, calming you the past few minutes when you felt lost... it is your friend, Potter. Somehow, you stole his life essence as it was fleeing his body... and his soul is trapped within your mind."  
  
Harry blinked for a minute, trying his best to make some sense of Redetyor's words.  
  
"Wait, wait," said Draco, an amused grin breaking out on his lips. "You mean Weasley is... right now... in Harry's brain?"  
  
Seth smirked.  
  
"Uh-huh..." Draco nodded and smiled brightly at Seth, with the same expression he might have given a three year old who had asked him if he was the candy man. "That is the most absurd thing I've ever heard. Harry, toss the damn thing over."  
  
Harry nodded slowly. It was clear that Seth knew his weaknesses... and it was also clear that he would go to any length to make Harry a pawn for his cause. Giving him false hope would have worked, had Draco not been there to pull him back to reality.  
  
Harry... he's right... said the voice of Ron Weasley within his left ear.  
  
"Bollocks!" shouted Harry. "You are dead, Ron... you are not here." Harry's eyes watered up. "I'm going insane... that's it."  
  
Ron's voice did not speak again.  
  
"Harry, he's right..." said Seth, closing his eyes. "Yes, Potter... I heard it too. He's confused... he is scared; he is weak. Right now, your best friend is trapped within a black, misty room, Potter. When your mind is adamant, he does not have the strength to enter your thoughts. Only when you are indecisive can his willpower interject his own voice into your thought patterns." Seth cackled mirthlessly. "And then, once you strengthen your resolve again, he is dropped back into mute."  
  
Harry's grip tightened again on the Sorolith.  
  
"So, here are your choices, Potter," said Seth slyly, turning back to walk toward the ranks of Narhassa students. Even those who had been weakened by their attack upon the girl within the cone had risen to their feet and moved to join their leader.  
  
"You can either disbelieve me, throw the Sorolith over... get yourself killed, Malfoy killed and Ron killed for good... and then, I'll hunt down your friends Granger and Camaradi because I'll have nothing better to do... and eh, why not, I'll kill Weasley's family too. Heck, without the Sorolith, seems the only way to gain power is through death and fear."  
  
"You wouldn't!" shouted Harry.  
  
Seth smirked devilishly. "I always find something constructive to do with my time. If I don't have Narhassa... I'll have to keep myself entertained in other ways."  
  
Harry looked down at the Sorolith once again.  
  
"Or," said Seth. "You can do this task for me... beat upon our little fallen angel, possibly subdue her, make me into the most powerful being the world has ever known, and walk out of here in my good graces... with instructions on how to save Weasley from yourself, using our soul-snatching Sorolith. Heck, once you are done, I'll have no need for it. You can have it... as a reward for services rendered."  
  
Draco snorted. "You aren't very good at persuasion, are you, clone? The way you put it, option one almost sounds preferable."  
  
"Just know that Lord Redetyor rewards those who serve him," said Seth, with a malicious leer.  
  
Harry was completely torn with indecision as half of him told him to stop chasing foolish dreams and throw the Sorolith over. Yet, the other half of him guessed that if there was a remote chance to save Ron... it must be taken.  
  
Harry... Ron's voice said, sounding into his ears. I... can see your thoughts... don't let Seth get the powers of Narhassa.  
  
Without another thought, Harry walked away from the channel, the Sorolith still within his hands.  
  
"Alright, Redetyor," said Harry shortly, his mind working fast. "If we do this, I am going to need two things from you."  
  
"Potter, have you bloody lost your mind?" snapped Draco.  
  
Redetyor arched his brows. "Go on."  
  
Harry stammered slightly, as if not believing he was about to agree and release Narhassa.  
  
"First," said Harry. "I want your word that... no matter what happens to me and Malfoy... Hermione and Sean won't be harmed."  
  
Seth shrugged uncaringly. "Done. I could care less about them."  
  
"And secondly," said Harry with a sneer of contempt. "I am going to need the Swords of Slytherin."  
  
The mention of such weapons put Seth into slight confusion. "The Swords of Slytherin?"  
  
"The swords used by Salazar Slytherin..." clarified Harry, "...the day he imprisoned Narhassa. If our research is correct, they are still down here, somewhere."  
  
"Seth," called out one of the boy's looking to be about a forth year. "I kicked two old looking swords off the bridge when Carle lead us down here."  
  
Seth looked at the boy stupidly. "Well, that makes it tough to get them, now doesn't it? That has to be about two miles down!"  
  
Harry shook his head and looked to the fourth year that spoke. He possessed dirty blonde hair and deep brown eyes, and a Welsh accent.  
  
"Show me where exactly," said Harry.  
  
The Narhassa boy nodded and escorted Harry out of the huge, lava dug chamber.  
  
Four other Narhassa students fell into step behind Harry, to make certain Harry wasn't considering offing another of their kin. They made their way back through the winding corridor and back out to the elevated area with two bridges, overlooking a black abyss.  
  
"Here," said the boy, stopping about a fourth the way across the bridge, standing still. "I'm sure of it... I slid them both to the left side and pushed them off."  
  
The six Narhassa students, four boys and two girls of all ages watched as Harry Potter lifted his wand into the air, focusing deeply. He cleared his mind, only thinking of his objective.  
  
"Accio Sword," he murmured under his breath as he swished the wand in the air.  
  
And then, they waited.  
  
It was a tense three minutes, but eventually, a glint of metal appeared within the dark abyss, rising swiftly. It was a very cold thing to look at; a cast-iron black blade forged with silver hilt and a green handle. While the sword of Gryffindor had seemed to glow with its own light with its blade sharpened off to a small, noble point, Salazar's broadsword seemed to resemble more of a rapier, with a thinner blade and a savagely sharp looking edge that seemed ready to impale the one Harry desired through the heart.  
  
It settled in Harry's hand and at once, the Boy Who Lived could feel a dark presence harboring within him. It entered his system like a rush of anxiety, as if on a roller coaster that just went over the first, tremendous drop. And then, Harry felt confident... he felt armed and dangerous.  
  
He felt as though, with this sword in his hand, he could move mountains.  
  
"Accio Sword," repeated Harry, and this time, it only took a single minute as the second sword, a perfect match for the first, rocketed forth from the abyss, as if eager to be wielded once again. Harry placed his wand back into the folds of his robe and snagged the second sword with his right hand, feeling a complete rush of energy and invigoration.  
  
Harry spun the hilts of the swords within his hands. Though he had only once held a sword within his hands, he felt as though these blades were natural extensions of his body. It was such a deep feeling; Harry could only think of one word to call it...  
  
Trust.  
  
He trusted that these swords would win the day for him.  
  
With a bounce to his step, Harry turned and strolled back to the green splashed hall, where Malfoy awaited him, surrounded by Narhassa students.  
  
"Did Weasley's death make you completely loose it?" snorted Malfoy, before even Seth could speak.  
  
Harry crossed the two blades of Slytherin gracefully and twirled them forward again, feeling an unexplainable excitement.  
  
Seth calmly beckoned his followers to the side of the chamber. "Whenever you two are ready," said Seth, with a devious smile upon his lips. "Keep a watch for Potter's girl and that Camaradi... in case they decide to crash this party."  
  
Upon seeing the look on Harry's face, Seth's lost his smile. "Just wound them if they come down."  
  
Malfoy continued staring at Harry, as if expecting an answer from him to his previous question.  
  
"They are nearly thirty and afraid of Narhassa. We are two, Harry!" exclaimed Draco. "How can we possibly harm this thing?"  
  
"We are a hell of a lot more than two," said Harry, his eyes alight, flickering with some alien power.  
  
Malfoy stared at Harry. "I don't like that look in your eyes..."  
  
Harry chuckled deeply, a sort of maddened look crossing his face. "And you think I care?"  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Ron watched helplessly as he stared at Malfoy, though it was not him staring at Malfoy. Harry was staring at Malfoy, though Ron could see clearly what Harry saw. He wanted to speak to Harry, tell him something, but he couldn't. Harry wasn't listening, or couldn't hear him.  
  
Harry's thoughts were too conclusive, and they raced across Ron's eyes like words upon a diary page. He could not will his own thoughts in, there was just no break in Harry's logic.  
  
It had taken Ron a few minutes upon first arriving in this cold, black nether, to realize that he was in fact within Harry's mind. As far as he could tell, he had no real form, but despite lacking a physical body, Ron knew everything that made him who he was was still perfectly intact.  
  
All he could remember was a warm feeling washing over his body; he had known he was dying. He had closed his eyes, and a few moments later, he had reopened them... and found himself here... in the middle of a black, swirling mess of nothing, with only Harry's vision in front of him, like a movie theatre.  
  
"Once I subdue Narhassa... and take her power into the Sorolith... I will rise... The Boy Who Destroyed... The Boy Who Conquered..."  
  
"What?!" exclaimed Ron, trying to scream. "Harry, that isn't you!"  
  
"You are right," said a sly voice from behind him... a cold, yet undeniably human one. At first, Ron thought the voice belong to Draco Malfoy, however, Ron turned around (though he really didn't turn around... seeing as how he had no body TO turn around... instead, he just had to alter his perception to view behind instead of in front.) to see a strange, severe looking man in a green and silver robe. "Those would be my thoughts..."  
  
"Who are you?" asked Ron, watching the man slowly come into view.  
  
At first glance, it appeared to be Harry... but, a much older Harry, perhaps what he would look like at age thirty-five. While Harry's features were acute and staunch, this man's face was sagged with age and rounded with temperance. His raven black hair was also well tamed and slicked back... something that distinctly set him apart from Harry. And while this man had shining, emerald green eyes, he wore not black-rimmed glasses, or any sort of eyewear.  
  
"I should ask you the same question," said the man as he strolled up next to Ron, looking out the "windows" in front of them, seeing what Harry saw as they would watch a movie. "It has been awhile since I've gotten a chance to speak with another human."  
  
Ron kept his vision focused upon the man. "Why are you sending such thoughts to Harry?"  
  
The man sighed, his thin lips parting a bit as he blew a puff of air up his face and into his hair.  
  
"When you've been cooped up for so long, without any real hope of release... and mysteriously, it happens... you find yourself itching for some payback against the forces that put you there."  
  
Ron shrugged. "I still don't know how it happened... one minute I was out there, next, I am in here."  
  
"Nor I," replied the man. "But, I am not questioning my luck. I have been given a chance to, once again, affect the world of man... I shall not turn it down."  
  
Before Ron could speak, the man extended his hand. "What is your name, boy?"  
  
It was strange, for the moment Ron desired to shake the man's hand, it seemed his old body returned, and his own skin touched the man's hand. "Ron Weasley. Do you have a name?" asked Ron.  
  
The man nodded slowly. "Yes. My name is Slytherin, Salazar Slytherin..."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Once I subdue Narhassa... and take her power into the Sorolith... I will rise... The Boy Who Destroyed... The Boy Who Conquered...  
  
Harry smirked evilly as he held the swords of Slytherin before him. With a simple nod of his head, the Sorolith obediently levitated out of his robe fold and hovered before him.  
  
"Harry..." trailed off Draco as he followed. Harry could feel Malfoy eying him, but he did not care.  
  
"Come on Malfoy," said Harry electrically as he made his way across to the hall, where the little girl stood with wide-eyed apprehension, trapped within her cone. The Sorolith slowly orbited Harry, its silvery colors being stained green by the lighting in the room.  
  
Don't let anyone get in your way...  
  
Harry could feel the Sorolith reaching out to him, in order to drop the second lock, he knew all he needed to do with focus on the Sorolith. The lock would not last long.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * "You aren't really Salazar Slytherin... I mean, THE Salazar Slytherin... the founder of Hogwarts, right?" asked Ron, running his words together like Dobby the House Elf.  
  
The man shrugged slowly. "I am his impression... the part of him he left within his swords. The boy who wields the swords must be my descendent, in spirit if not in blood. My essence flows through him and his lineage is pure. Thus, my sway over him is great."  
  
Before Ron could reply, the impression of Slytherin began to speak again.  
  
"Don't let anyone get in your way," hissed Slytherin as the words leapt out of his mouth visibly, and jammed themselves into Harry's logical process, as it flew by Ron's eyes.  
  
Ron looked at him with horror. "What are you doing to him?"  
  
Slytherin looked back to Ron, a look of pure ennui upon his face. "I'm giving him the weapons that he will need to defeat Narhassa... anger, hatred and recklessness."  
  
Ron's spirit stared at him dubiously. "Why do you want him to take the powers of Narhassa for himself... after what they did to you?"  
  
Slytherin stared ahead, licking his thin lips and blinking his emerald green eyes at Harry's vision ahead of him. Harry was staring at the young girl, and still willing the Sorolith to break the second lock.  
  
"Ron Weasley..." said Slytherin, speaking calmly, without passion or prejudice. "I had a dream, long ago. I dreamed once that wizards would rule the world, out in the open, enjoying the same pleasures that the Muggles do... with no burden to shoulder; I dreamed wizards would be able to sit on a beach and use a Sunblocking Charm without having to Memory Charm any stupid muggle that might have seen it."  
  
Still hardly believing that he was talking to THE Salazar Slytherin, Ron could barely formulate a response. However, Slytherin must have been able to see Ron just as clearly as Ron saw Slytherin, for he read the look of disgust that would have been on his face.  
  
"I expect such sentiments from a student of Godric," said Slytherin lazily, eying the spot on Ron's body that would have had his Gryffindor patch, right over his heart. "If this... Harry Potter we appear to be within takes the power of Narhassa for his own, there will be no one to stop him. Godric was there to stop me, but no one will oppose this one. I will be alone within this boy's mind, and my dream will finally come true."  
  
Ron gawked with disbelief. "You would use Harry to kill all the Muggles and Muggle-born in the world?"  
  
Slytherin ran a thin, pale hand through his sleek, black hair. "You make it sound as though that is a bad thing. Do you know how many wizards and witches have died by the hands of Muggles? My own mother and father were both stoned to death by a mob. Do you know that, before the turn of the millennia, during the Dark Ages, there were Muggles devoted to the supernatural. They found a wizard's weakness was their wand... and could exploit it. As such, they taught the uneducated masses, and led a genocide of which my whole family was a part of."  
  
Ron reminded himself that he had to hate Salazar Slytherin, but he could not help but be lulled into listening his words.  
  
"After knowing Muggles are capable of such acts, how can you not wish them purged from the face of this realm?" asked Slytherin.  
  
Ron exhaled vehemently, as if he had been holding his breath for minutes. "Not every Muggle is bad!"  
  
"Looking at Muggles individually," continued Slytherin. "You are right. A person is smart and can win a place in ones heart." Slythern's face became a shell of disgust. "When looked at on the whole, they are stupid, panicky and ruthless against those they fear... and thus, would need to be wiped out on the whole."  
  
Ron glared at Slytherin. "I'm not going to let you possess my best friend!"  
  
The figment laughed out loud; an arrogant, blood-thirsty cry that echoed in the swirling darkness of Harry's mind.  
  
"And what are you going to do, Ron Weasley... it isn't like you can stop me..."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
And then, it happened.  
  
With a sizzle and hiss of power, the Sorolith emitted a red blast energy that shot forth from the red button on the side, smashing explosively into the cone surrounding Narhassa. The sheer force of the impact rocked Harry and Draco back on their heels as the entire hall shook with a resounding boom.  
  
When the light cleared, a split second later... the little girl that stood before them was no more; she was gone.  
  
"Err," began Draco, scratching his head. "I think you hit it a bit too hard."  
  
Harry could feel the hairs on the back of his neck ridding up as the tension in the air mounted. The humming and the chanting that seemed to always be present had stopped... and all was very quiet.  
  
Redetyor and the rest of the group that watched from the other side of the hall looked around in confusion.  
  
Yet, Harry tightened his grip on his swords. "No, Malfoy... she is just stretching out before attempting to rip us to shreds."  
  
And then, a resounding slam echoed from all the way across the room. Harry and Draco whirled around to see what was making the noise when they heard Carle scream.  
  
"The room just sealed itself! We are trapped!"  
  
And then, Harry heard it... it was the sound of a young girl, echoing across the entire hallway, loudly and resoundingly, striking discord within his entire being.  
  
"Thank you for releasing me," cooed the sweet, innocent sounding voice. "Now, you are all going to die... your souls will feed my return!"  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Sean!" screamed Hermione as they flew away from Ben Nevis, side by side. Sean had honored Harry's request to take Hermione and go, and despite her proclivities about leaving Harry, she had finally caved in. "Look!"  
  
The moon in the night sky fizzled and warped before their very eyes, turning the color of blood.  
  
At then, the entire sky lit up with streaks of white light, shooting across the night.  
  
"A meteor shower," said Hermione slowly.  
  
Sean swallowed nervously from his own broom. "The moon is bleeding... and the stars are falling."  
  
Hermione turned from the sky back to Sean.  
  
"Narhassa is free... the Dark Times have begun."  
  
Hermione's eyes widened with confusion and terror. "Oh no, please... does that mean Harry's de..."  
  
Sean bit his own lips in an effort to keep a level head. "It just means Narhassa is freed. He probably didn't get down there soon enough to stop it... he'll be fine!"  
  
Yet, Sean was not sure who he was trying to convince, Hermione or himself.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
And suddenly, the hall shook violently once again.  
  
"What the..." began Malfoy, however, he was suddenly cut off as the sound culminated into the roar of fire.  
  
Harry's eyes widened with disbelief as lava shot up from each of the canals, in a huge explosion, sending down sparse droplets of fire all around the room. Doing the only thing Harry could think of, he crossed the swords of Salazar Slytherin over his head as a thin, dispersed rain descended down upon him.  
  
Draco copied Harry's movement, using the sword of Gryffindor to shield himself from the lava as best as it could.  
  
While Draco and Harry, with a bit of luck on their side, escaped all but unscathed by the dispersed fiery rain, many of the Narhassa students went down screaming, sporting severe burns all over their bodies. Seth and Carle both looked terrified as they continued working on the door, trying to flee.  
  
Harry turned to face Malfoy as the ground around them boiled and scalded from the droplets of magma. Malfoy seemed positively spooked... and soon, Harry figured out why.  
  
"DUCK!" shouted Draco, as he suddenly backed away from Harry.  
  
The hair on the back of Harry's neck rose, and his head went down just in time to avoid the colossal swing of a energetic, crimson blade that would have cleanly severed it.  
  
Harry spun around, leaping backwards to put his assailant in front of him. When he beheld the figure before him, there was no doubt that it was Narhassa.  
  
The little girl they had seen within the cone of green force was definitely a mere illusion... for her real form was far more intimidating. She was a woman with long, raven black hair that flowed gracefully down her back, swirling about her midsection in the fearsome wind that ripped across the hall. Her eyes illuminated a fierce shade of amber and were slit like a cat's. She was clad from head to toe in a tight, revealing leather suit with a long, black cape. The uniform possessed one spiked shoulder pad, which seemed to be well suited for slamming someone, and impaling them dead. Had the woman not been holding a fiercely glowing red sword within her hand, and starting at Harry with it... he would have been quite turned on.  
  
Remaining as silent as the night, she took a rip at Harry's midsection, forcing the young Seeker to leap backward out of reach.  
  
Draco came in at her from the flank, swinging the sword of Gryffindor above his neck level. Harry was amazed with the practiced grace that Draco had about him... for he seemed no stranger to sword fighting. Narhassa threw up her own sword with one hand, deflecting Draco's slice over her left shoulder, causing a shower of sparks. She drove her free hand into Draco's face and spun around on one foot, delivering a fierce roundhouse to his chest, dropping him to his knees.  
  
Yet, before she could make good on her attack, Harry was back at her, swinging his two blades in a circular routine, with the left blade cutting across her collarbone, and the right blade hooking underneath in a gut slice. Narhassa spun around, deflecting Harry's low shot with a well placed parry, and avoiding Harry's shoulder slice by tangling his sword within her black cape.  
  
Harry could feel his anger and hate taking the driver's seat. It was Narhassa who had caused all of this. Had Narhassa never existed to destroy... he would have never met Jessica... he would have not been in a swordfight, fighting for his life, and finally, Ron would still be alive.  
  
Good... said a voice from within... Release your anger...  
  
And Harry did just that. With a roar of defiance, he pressed on his attack... the blades within his hands becoming much lighter and much faster as knowledge on attack routines, parries, offense and defense came unbidden into his brain. Harry's fighting stance became crouched and very fluent, each of his muscles working in harmony with the rest of his body.  
  
He slithered like a serpent.  
  
Harry spun one of the blades in his hands, delivering a low-high cut aimed to slice from gut to neck with one sword as he stepped in with his other blade, delivering another headshot.  
  
Narhassa danced with him, following his lead like a practiced routine. She backed off, moving her own single, huge sword with the grace of one who had practiced for eons. Steel rang against steel as Harry's indigo blades clashed with her glowing red sword; a waltz of flashing metal to all those watching.  
  
Draco, having recovered from his quick combo, worked around Narhassa's flank, delivering a combination of three jabs, aimed at her shoulder, while Harry split stepped and leapt to Narhassa's side, leading with two impressive cuts.  
  
In an unexpected move, Narhassa leapt into the air, flipping forward in a head-over heels twist, and cutting her sword across like a pengellium, slicing at each of the boys as they hit only air with their respective attacks.  
  
Draco deflected her shot, both hands on Gryffindor's sword... however, Harry, parrying with his left arm, was found lacking in strength as one of his swords skittered out of his hands, and spun across the floor.  
  
"Accio Sw..." began Harry, but he could not get the words out as Narhassa pressed on him, lashing out furiously with her greatsword in a devastating overhead chomp.  
  
Harry desperately grabbed his remaining blade with both hands, meeting Narhassa's chop at shoulder level. A shower of sparks flew away from the battle, picked up by the savage wind. Harry and Narhassa locked their blades, with Narhassa having a distinct advantage due to her blade's size.  
  
Draco came on from the side, but a quick kick from the fallen angel deterred him long enough.  
  
Harry yelped in pain as Narhassa's quick feet dug themselves into his thigh. His grip on his sword faltered as he was propelled backwards by the force, tumbling across the ground, but quickly recovering to his feet in a move no doubt given to him by the unlocked anger and hatred.  
  
Not having time to go for his swords, Harry thought quickly as Narhassa pressed on the now weaponless Harry.  
  
"Accio Wands!" he demanded as he tumbled forward, underneath Narhassa's swing. Both of his wands flew out of his robe, locking themselves into Harry's grip.  
  
Harry came up with a kick, aimed both of his wands at Narhassa, and let off a stream of words from his mouth. Ron's voice joined Harry's as well, sounding completely strained and weary, though Harry didn't pay it much heed.  
  
Narhassa steadied her sword in front of the color bombardment and began rapidly deflecting Harry's spells as they shot forth upon her. She moved with super human speed and Harry was forced to dive out of the way of his own Stunning Charm, as she reflected it right back at him.  
  
Alright, that isn't going to work!  
  
But Narhassa was not allowed to follow up on this as Draco moved back at her flank with natural grace, slicing at her hip... and landing a brutal looking cut.  
  
Narhassa let out a strangled cry as the Sword of Gryffindor dug into her side, shooting blackened blood out of the wound. Yet, the wound was not enough to stop the superhuman being as she rounded on Draco, delivering a quick series of slashes with her longer blade, forcing Draco to begin backing off rapidly.  
  
"Accio Swords!" demanded Harry as he shoved both of his wands back into his robe. Both of his swords rose from the ground and leapt into his hands. He twirled them both confidently as they returned.  
  
Narhassa swung at Draco with a cross body slash, aiming to split him diagonally. Yet, the pallid boy was too quick for her as he leapt back...  
  
... and right off the edge of a lava canal with a scream.  
  
Harry, while racing over to aid him, saw Draco drop the sword of Gryffindor, which spiraled down into boiling magma below. Draco barely was able to save himself as he grabbed a hold upon the side of the chasm, teetering with certain doom.  
  
Narhassa smirked down at Draco evilly and raised her sword to cleave off his fingers, which would surely send him plummeting down into the lava below. Harry, while fast and extremely determined... was just not going to make it in time to save Draco's life.  
  
Release your hate... and see the solution.  
  
Harry needed no further coaxing as he screamed with all his frustration. Draco was not going to die here... while Harry admitted he held no love or even like for the boy, he was his ally, just as Cedric was. It was not going to come to his death... not this time.  
  
Suddenly seeing the solution clearly, but needing the power, Harry drew deep from all his reservoirs of frustration, angst, hatred and anger. His early childhood and his life with the Dursley's was enough to bury what was left of his goodness and selflessness as he drew both blades back behind him and held them perpendicular to his body. With a defying scream, he shot his arms forward, releasing the blades of Slytherin.  
  
Both blades whipped out of Harry's hand, spinning like helicopter propellers, right for Narhassa's back. The fallen angel was quick to turn, hearing the sudden whooshing behind her...  
  
... and was in perfect time to catch both blades through her chest, followed shortly by a charging Harry. Narhassa's sword clattered to the ground by her feet and missing Draco's fingers as he clasped onto the ledge... like his life depended upon it.  
  
Narhassa dropped her jaw as her amber eyes widened with what could only be disbelief.  
  
Following through, with all of his hate in the driver's seat, Harry drew both blades from Narhassa's chest, and before he realized what he was doing, crossed them both at head level with a savage grunt, separating the woman's head from her shoulders with an awful gout of brackish liquid.  
  
"Go back to hell!" sneered Harry. "And give my regards to Barty Crouch!"  
  
He shoved the failing body over the side of the lava chasm, where it careened down and landed with a splash, quickly burning away with a vile, red smoke.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Draco's mind was a total blur, but one thought continued to repeat within his brain.  
  
Hold on... hold on...  
  
Harry's hands suddenly appeared over the lip of the canal, grasping onto Draco's. With an effortless pull by the raven-haired boy, Draco was yanked up over the lip of the lava channel and helped to his feet by Harry.  
  
Oh thank god...  
  
Yet Draco, a Malfoy to the end, was not about to thank Harry for saving his life, or even seem that positively elated about the prospect. Instead, he just looked up and stared at his rescuer.  
  
Harry's eyes were closed, as if in quiet reflection of the deed they had done.  
  
"Good show, Harry!" exclaimed Draco breathlessly, holding out his hand. "I cannot BELIEVE we won. It IS better to be lucky than good."  
  
And then, Harry opened his eyes causing Draco to start, and nearly fall back into the lava. In place of his usual kind, emerald green pupils... there was nothing but a solid, green glow.  
  
"Draco..." hissed Harry, in a voice that sounded magnified with a grating, hollow hiss. The tone was loud enough and dense enough to reverberate through the hall. "We are not done."  
  
Both black blades suddenly burst into black flames as he turned about, and moved toward the Narhassa kids. Only about half were still standing, for the droplets of magma burned many, though everyone seemed alive. Redetyor and Carle both watched Harry with confused disdain as he approached.  
  
"Justice will be paid in full..." roared Harry, his tone sending chills down even Draco's spine. "... and the price is exactly twenty-eight more deaths."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Justice will be paid in full... and the price is exactly twenty- eight more deaths," said Salazar Slytherin, sneering with contempt.  
  
"Stop it!" cried Ron, loudly, protesting vehemently. "Don't make Harry do that... he's not like that!"  
  
Salazar turned his head to Ron, his own eyes glowing solid green. "These kids tried to get him killed!" snapped Salazar. "They forced him to fight a fight he would have never won had it not been for me..."  
  
A slight grin broke out onto his face.  
  
"... and on top of that, they are pathetic Muggles!"  
  
Ron, no longer feeling afraid willed himself to walk over to Slytherin, passing through the swirling, black mists of Harry's mind.  
  
"You have no right to do this, Slytherin!" shouted Ron. "Let him go!"  
  
Slytherin glared mirthlessly out of Harry's eyes. "Not a chance. He is mine now."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Um, Potter... not to get too personal," began Malfoy as he calmly walked after Harry, "but I believe you've officially gone insane and damn, how DO you get your eyes to do that?"  
  
Harry turned around briefly, examining Draco like he was an insect with his solid, glowing green eyes.  
  
"Magic," said Harry, his voice reverberating with a gravelly, evil reverberation.  
  
Malfoy sighed and held up his hands, taking a few steps back. "It's better to serve evil than to stand in its path."  
  
Without another word, Harry continued walking toward the Narhassa students, his swords crossed and steaming with black fire. The students that were capable of moving yelled with terror and scattered around the room while the ones on the ground, crying from burn injuries, made a show of crawling away from Harry, their eyes widened with fear.  
  
"Oh god!" cried Carle as she pressed herself against the door, still holding her left arm in her right hand.  
  
Yet, Seth was not going to be taken down so easily.  
  
"That's close enough, Potter!" he shouted, holding out his hand. "You may have gotten lucky against Narhassa... but... but... you won't survive me?"  
  
Seth must of realized what he said was counterproductive seeing as how he stuttered for the first time Harry had ever heard. This only caused Harry to quicken his step toward him, his swords seeming all too eager to impale his hide.  
  
"Fine... I'll stop you!" said Seth, extending his hand. "Take this!"  
  
... nothing happened.  
  
Seth blinked and wiggled his fingers, now beginning to panic.  
  
Harry closed the distance between them and drove the hilt of his left sword into Redetyor's face, falling him to the ground.  
  
"Narhassa's dead... you have no power..." drawled Harry evilly, his voice oscillating with cruelty. "Any last words before I cut you open?"  
  
Seth looked up at Harry, his eyes wide with terror.  
  
"Please, I'll give you anything you want... let me live!"  
  
Harry smirked cruelly at him, as if he didn't even hear him. "Nope, I didn't think so."  
  
The Boy Who Lived raised his left sword and prepared to drive it through Redetyor's gut. Yet, something within him stayed his hand for just a moment. It was not that he did not wish to do it; he wanted his sword to stick through Seth; he wanted to see his blood spill to the ground; he wanted to avenge his best friend.  
  
But, it was wrong. Something about this was wrong and once again, Harry lapsed into indecision.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Ron gasped as he saw Harry's lapse in his thought process. Realizing that this was perhaps the last chance to save his friend, his own resolve strengthened to the point of a sledgehammer.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Harry! Don't listen! Don't kill someone like this... Salazar Slytherin... he has possessed you! Fight the urge to kill him! Don't hate; don't be angry!  
  
Ron's voice was so amazingly clear in his ears that he turned around, half-expecting to see him, standing at his flank or behind him. Harry's glowing green eyes flickered for a moment with recognition.  
  
Seth stared up at Harry, terror so clearly written in his eyes.  
  
That is the voice of Narhassa, said the second voice in Harry's head. She is still alive and means to deceive you into thinking there is still hope. Kill off those who killed your best friend... see justice done!  
  
Harry nodded slowly and made a show of raising the blade again, though something about how familiar and how alive Ron's voice was within his head made him quite unsure.  
  
Harry... you ARE NOT a dark wizard... and NEVER will be. Ron's voice cried out again, ringing like gong within Harry's head.  
  
Harry again blinked his glowing eyes and lowered the sword.  
  
"What is going on..." he murmured quietly to himself.  
  
Kill him, cried the second voice.  
  
Harry, I'm still alive... continued Ron, his voice sounding desperate. You are my best friend and always will be. If my friendship means anything to you, don't slay these kids in cold blood.  
  
Harry could feel his eyes tearing up, even if the solid color would not show it.  
  
"But, Ron," whispered Harry, drawing a look from Redetyor as confused as it was nervous now, "I saw you die... you died in my arms..."  
  
Harry, Ron is dead, don't waste your time talking to Narhassa... kill these boys and girls and bury your emotions deep down, dictated the second, more mature voice.  
  
Don't ask me how I am still alive, Harry, continued Ron, The last thing I remember was you putting your head to mine... and then I went unconscious... then, I am inside this place... looking out of your eyes.  
  
Harry ran his finger along his forehead, where he had touched Ron. This, invariably led to him running his finger across his scar, bringing him back to Ron's last seconds of life.  
  
He had not even realized it at the time, but his scar had hurt the second he made connection with Ron's forehead. Was there even a chance that, whatever caused that pain... also might have caused Ron to leave his own body and enter his mind?  
  
"Prove to me..." said Harry softly, the terror in Redetyor's face being replaced by outright bewilderment. "Prove to me it is really you..."  
  
The sound of Ron's laughter filled his ears, now drowning out the bellowing rage of the second figure.  
  
Did you like my Dislocating Charm on your ex-girlfriend?  
  
A tear fell down Harry's glowing green eyes as he laughed out loud, his hatred and his anger fleeing his soul and replaced by one emotion... hope.  
  
Harry glanced down to his hands, seeing the cursed blades of Slytherin... flaming with black fire within his grip.  
  
Harry... don't listen... kill them, it is the only way... cried the second voice, sounding so weak and distant within his head.  
  
The blades seemed so heavy and awkward within his hands. Harry turned around and began walking away from Seth, drawing a simple nod from Draco. He slowly meandered over to the side of a lava canal, taking his time and driving the indecision out of his mind.  
  
"This is for you, Ron," said Harry, a smile breaking out onto his face.  
  
Ron was quiet, and Harry knew why... he had never once been surer of anything in his life than the action he was about to undertake.  
  
With a slow, but purposeful motion, Harry extended his arms over the magma... and released the swords of Slytherin, watching them drop down into the lava below. Harry felt weakened as the blades splashed down and vanished beneath the surface of the red hot liquid, but he could not deny the feeling of righteousness creeping back into his chest.  
  
The door leading out of the chamber of Narhassa slowly slid open with a grinding squeal. Little did Harry know, but after the death of Narhassa, apparently he was the only force keeping it intact.  
  
Harry blinked his emerald green eyes, for they had now returned to their normal color.  
  
I am not a dark wizard, and never will be.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Next Chapter: The Epilogue... Few more things need to be resolved and closed up. What's going to happen to Ron, what's going to happen to Sean? What about Redetyor and Carle? Finally, where is Draco going to go now that Hogwarts has expelled him, the Ministry is after him, Voldemort wants to kill him, and his Father has disowned him?  
  
Stay tuned for the closure chapter. 


	26. Only the Good Die Young Except When They...

Chapter 26: Only the Good Die Young... Except When They Don't.  
  
Harry and Draco had left the Chamber of Narhassa without another word to the Narhassa students, or to Jessica, who gave them their space. Jessica was wandless, and none of the other students had their power and currently possessed the magical power of Muggles. They deduced that there was no way that they would be leaving the summit of Ben Nevis without their powers, and would be there until Dumbledore notified the Ministry about what happened.  
  
The trip back to Hogwarts was long, tense... and very cold as they rode the night sky well into the early morning. Yet, this time, Draco had prepared himself some warm clothing, and Harry's own attire was complimented nicely by a warming red belt he wore underneath his robes; a gift from Sirius.  
  
It was nice to know that, had the lava hit Harry, he was sure that the heat wouldn't have harmed him.  
  
Finally, the spires of the school appeared in sight. Hogwarts at night was always a marvelous sight, but tonight, it was simply breathtaking. Lights of all colors shimmered at various points as the school itself seemed to radiate magic. To Harry's utter surprise, it was clear that the school was repairing itself of all the superficial damage done by the assaulting Narhassa students.  
  
It is simply fascinating how magical Hogwarts really is.  
  
Harry became aware that Draco had slowed by his side, and begun trailing behind him.  
  
"Well, Potter," said Malfoy with a smirk. "It seems this is where we go our separate ways."  
  
Harry only now remembered that Malfoy was in fact a wanted man, as well as expelled from Hogwarts.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," snapped Harry. "We'll tell Dumbledore what happened... and what you did tonight. He's all about second chances."  
  
Malfoy shook his head. "No, Potter... I'm better than that. Perhaps I can attend school in Beauxbatons, or Durmstrang... or maybe that American school, Castagloria. If I march in there, and Dumbledore does not forgive me, I will be sent to Azkaban."  
  
"That's barmy, Malfoy!" snapped Harry. "On what charges?"  
  
Draco stared at Harry condescendingly. "Oh, gee... where to begin? How about kidnapping and assault, for starters?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "That never happened as long as Hermione and Ron suddenly change their mind and say there never was an assault or kidnapping."  
  
"Oh right," scowled Draco. "And your word will undo my theft of the Sword of Gryffindor and the Sorting Hat?"  
  
Harry shook his head as he floated upon his broom, a bit closer to Draco for emphasis. "Nope... but giving them back will."  
  
It seemed to Harry that the more liberated he proved Draco to be, the more visibly upset he looked. Draco did not want to be wrong, even about something like this.  
  
"And what about the Underage Magic Offense?"  
  
Harry cocked his head at Malfoy, who shifted nervously. "Ok... fine Malfoy. You aren't going to be happy unless you are guilty of something. You are right."  
  
Malfoy visibly relaxed at that sentiment. "Damn right, I'm right. It is my favorite thing to be besides good-looking."  
  
And, for the first time Harry could ever remember, he beamed mirthfully at Malfoy. "Come on then, you wretched Slytherin. Let's go clear your name."  
  
This arched a silvery brow in his direction.  
  
"If I didn't know better, Potter, I'd say you were almost eager to help me..." trailed off Malfoy.  
  
Harry smirked and spurred his broom forward. "Let's just say if I had the choice between you dying and a random person in China, I just might pick the random person in China."  
  
"That is MY LINE, you mangy git!" snapped Malfoy as he sped after him.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Mr. Potter," said Albus Dumbledore, his eyes sparkling with disappointment as Harry and Draco took a seat within his office. It was clear that the Headmaster had nothing to say to Malfoy and had even taken the Sorting Hat from him without a word. "You have no idea how disappointed I am with you right now."  
  
"Professor?" asked Harry, his smile quickly fading.  
  
"Silence, Mr. Potter, please," said the Headmaster, maintaining a soft, but hurt tone. "You left the school in the middle of a crisis, and freely subjected both yourself and all your friends to mortal peril."  
  
Draco scoffed loudly. "Two things, Headmaster... when isn't Potter subjecting himself to mortal danger, and bugger it... I am NOT his FRIEND!"  
  
"Five points from Slytherin," snapped Dumbledore, looking back to Harry.  
  
Both Harry and Draco looked at each other for a moment...  
  
"Wait a minute," said Draco. "How can I loose House Points if I am expelled from school?"  
  
This, at last, brought the hint of a twinkle to Dumbledore's wise, blue eyes.  
  
Picking up on Dumbledore's hidden meaning, Draco nodded. "I'm not too good at this part... well, I've never done it... and, well, I plan to not make a habit of doing this... and damn, this is going to break my self- image... but..."  
  
Dumbledore smiled weakly. "You are welcome, Mr. Malfoy."  
  
As if Dumbledore had just bailed him out of Azkaban, (which was not that short of the truth, all things considered) Draco breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
"Anyway, Mr. Malfoy, I need to speak with Mr. Potter by himself... I am sure you can find your way back to your common room."  
  
Without another word, Draco rose with half-smirk upon his face. Once again, Malfoy had the look of someone who had come off as the victor. With a skulking step, he snooped out of the office, closing the door softly behind him.  
  
Harry sighed and lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry, Headmaster."  
  
Dumbledore shook his head, his disappointment still clearly evident to Harry.  
  
"Harry, know that I am not upset about the result of your actions. What you have accomplished tonight has squelched what could have gone down in history for thousands of years to come as the Night of Narhassa, where Voldemort rose above a level any mortal could ever hope to reach."  
  
Harry sighed and lowered his head.  
  
"I am upset, however, at the loss of Ron Weasley," said Dumbledore sadly. "I know how difficult this loss must be for you, but..."  
  
"Professor," said Harry calmly, his eyes smiling while his face remained calm. "Ron is alive."  
  
Dumbledore looked at Harry, as if not quite sure how to take this.  
  
"You are right, Harry," began Dumbledore tentatively. "He will always be alive in all of us... but..."  
  
Harry now smiled, his expression of calm stoicism being wiped clear off his face. "Ron is alive, inside my head," Harry leaned forward in the chair, and to the best of his ability, explained the events that transpired upon Ben Nevis, from his arrival to his departure.  
  
Harry's tale had the Headmaster positively transfixed.  
  
Once Harry finished, Dumbledore blinked his eyes for the first time since Harry had begun explaining.  
  
"You care about Mr. Weasley more than life itself..."  
  
Harry cocked his head, not sure what Dumbledore meant. "Err... well, I'd give my life for his in a heartbeat, if that is what you mean."  
  
"Not exactly," admitted Dumbledore. "A sense of duty is all that is needed to give your life for another. No, Harry, what I mean is that you would think of your life as meaningless, if Ron Weasley was not a part of it."  
  
Harry recalled all too well his actions taken, while under the impression that Ron was dead.  
  
"I suppose so," said Harry.  
  
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "You have a bond with Ron then... much in the way as you have a bond with anyone whose life you save. However, your bond with Mr. Weasley is much deeper, for in a way, every moment Ron lives, he is saving your life... and I am sure the same holds true for his sentiments for you."  
  
Harry nodded, understanding Dumbledore's words.  
  
"By simply existing, Ron Weasley is saving your life... for without him, your life would have no meaning in your eyes. That, Harry, is the strongest sort of connection you can have with another human being. It is one of the strongest kinds of love that exists in the world."  
  
Harry continued to nod.  
  
"We have known for some time that your scar is unique, and is all but a mystery to us; it was created in a way that has never been replicated before... the successful resisting of a Killing Curse."  
  
Dumbledore smiled kindly, his disappointment having been vanquished by the prospect of Ron's continued existence.  
  
"Your scar is a symbol of life, Harry... it fights to keep you alive. It warns you of Voldemort's presence and hatred, it protects you from the Imperius and the Killing Curse... and tonight, by taking in Ron Weasley's essence, it protected your life once again, for without Ron, your life... for all intent and purpose... would be over."  
  
Harry felt his emotions clashing within his head. Part of him could feel a lump swelling up within his throat as his sentimental emotions played their hand. Part of him could feel a smiling tugging at his lips, as the joyous emotions called. But, the one emotion that took place in Harry's mind was determination, which beat out the other two, causing them to fold.  
  
"You are right, Professor... and now, it is time to restore his essence and bring him back to life."  
  
Dumbledore smiled genuinely. "Yes, of course it is... I will tell you the side-effects, however, I know all too well that they will not matter. Nothing will make a dent in your resolve to bring your best friend back to life."  
  
Harry sat back again, listening.  
  
"You must understand that a body is simply a shell that a spirit uses to affect the world around him, so do not take what I am about to say as negative," explained Dumbledore, "but, as you know... Ron's body is destroyed. As you just told me, it was crushed by Voldemort's snake and has begun to decay ontop of the mountain."  
  
The unpleasant language and imagery made Harry swallow a nervous gulp of air.  
  
"In order for Ron to return to real life, Harry, he must have a body... yet not any body will do. The body must be familiar to him, or his soul will reject it. His soul must also be able to bind with the body and be a welcome presence, or the body will reject him."  
  
"Err... but how?" asked Harry. "How can I find a body for him that will be right?"  
  
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "You will not find a body, Harry. You will make one..."  
  
At first, Harry was confused, however, he quickly came to the realization of what he must do.  
  
"You want me to make a simulacrum?" supplied Harry.  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Using this Sorolith, you can create a simulacrum, and implant Ron's soul within. Due to the powerful connection between you two as it is, the body will not reject his soul, and his soul should not reject the body."  
  
Harry's ecstatic feelings were kept in reserve as Dumbledore held up his hand, silencing him before he could speak.  
  
"You must further understand Harry, you will forever create a bond so powerful between you two, that you will not only feel each other's pain, you will experience it and you will undergo it. If Ron breaks his leg, you will break yours as well and vice versa. Giving a soul to a shell simulacrum will create these side effects..."  
  
Harry nodded, hanging on Dumbledore's every word. "Go on."  
  
"Also," explained Dumbledore. "You will be bound to Ron in the same way as Seth Redetyor and Voldemort are bound... you will be able to see each other's dreams, feel each other's stronger emotions, and even have limited telepathic abilities with each other."  
  
"That's wicked!" exclaimed Harry, seeing this as less of a problem and more of a perk.  
  
With that, Dumbledore stood up and moved over to Harry's side. "And the final thing you need to know, Harry... is that Ron will have your body, which will make you identical twins."  
  
That caused Harry to chuckle. "While that might secure Hermione a place in St. Mungo's... I think we will all live through it."  
  
Dumbledore smiled kindly and scratched his long beard. "It will take a few days to create this simulacrum. Classes have been postponed for a week, as a result of the attack, so I shall work with you closely. We will need the Sorolith to both create the body and channel Ron's soul out of your body and into the clone."  
  
Harry nodded, thrilled by the prospect.  
  
"Professor," asked Harry, becoming pensive for a moment. "What is to happen to the Muggles on top of Ben Nevis... and Carle Spencer?"  
  
Dumbledore calmly stroked his beard. "They are being rescued as we speak... all of the muggles will be given Memory Charms... as will their families." With a simple chuckle, the old man continued. "They believe they attended Smeltings Academy as exchange students, and had a great time."  
  
Harry's face suddenly stiffened. "Not Sean too, right?"  
  
Dumbledore simpered slightly. "Of course not, Harry. He will always be welcome to visit Hogwarts as a guest and I think we can trust him to keep a secret." The old man winked at him.  
  
This put Harry back at ease.  
  
"And, as far as Jessica Rennings, or Carle Spencer is concerned... I am certain they will not find her on the peak of Ben Nevis. Harry, something tells me her father was overseeing the events from a distance, and decided to help his daughter. Sadly, the Wizarding World has not seen the last of her, I am certain."  
  
"And Redetyor?" asked Harry, almost afraid to hear Dumbledore's explanation.  
  
"As for Mr. Redetyor," said Dumbledore calmly, with his kind, even temperament. "I have decided that he can be Hagrid's assistant... he is very smart and capable, and surprisingly good-hearted when most of his troubles have been forgotten. I have adopted him as my own son, though I don't fancy myself as a good father figure, after the boys I have raised so long ago." Dumbledore's tone hinted at a slight bit of shame.  
  
Harry blinked. He was not exactly sure if this was good news or bad news. "Err."  
  
The good Headmaster smiled, putting his own sentiments to the back of his mind and showing a row of perfect white teeth in the process. "I've erased all the pain from his memories. Despite being a Muggle, he still has a small amount of magical potential... his bond with Voldemort ensures it. When he is not with Hagrid, he will learn how to use a wand, perhaps even become the Caretaker one day, if Filch ever moves on."  
  
Harry shrugged. Despite his own personal feelings about Seth, he honestly did not think he could be much worse than Filch.  
  
"Now go on," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling with new life. "Tell Sean and Hermione the good news about Ron."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"I knew you could do it, Harry," said Ron, his blue eyes twinkling as the light of the fire reflected off of Ron's ginger hair. He was, as Harry would always see him... tall, redheaded boy who was his best friend.  
  
Harry smiled. Once again, he knew he was dreaming... only this time, he did not want to wake up. They were within the Gryffindor Common Room, where Harry had finally retired just as the morning sun was peaking over the Forbidden Forest. Hermione had kept him up all night talking...  
  
One tragedy, in both their minds, was that Sean... once again... was mute. It was the power of Narhassa that assisted his speech... but now Narhassa was gone. When Harry told them the good news, he had calmly sat back and listened, his expression enthusiastic and overjoyed, despite his own personal loss.  
  
"I would have lost my soul to Salazar if it wasn't for you," said Harry. "I trust you overheard... and saw the conversation with Dumbledore, right?"  
  
Ron nodded... it was clear that he was able to exert full control over Harry's dreams and make himself completely known when Harry was sleeping.  
  
"I've always wondered what it would be like to have a twin brother... I guess now, I'm going to find out."  
  
Harry shrugged. "Fred and George don't seem to mind it."  
  
Ron clicked his own tongue in amusement. "Though, unfortunately, my good looks have to go. I wonder if I will have any better luck with your hair."  
  
The dreaming boy reached up and patted his disheveled head. "Wow... you just did a Malfoy."  
  
Harry laughed genuinely as Ron choked over his own tongue.  
  
"Anyway, Ron, give us a few days... and your new body will be done"  
  
Ron ran his fingers through his own hair. "I'm not going anywhere..."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Draco calmly walked through the halls of Hogwarts, two days after their trip to Ben Nevis, humming a song under his lips. Hogwarts was all but empty, as most of the kids went home for this small postponement to be with their families after the terrible uprising.  
  
He knew he had no family to return to now, though that did not bother him all that much. It always suited his image to live day by day and never think all that much about the future. Always reserved in his speculations about tomorrow, Malfoy had always been content to live for today.  
  
And so, he had not thought anything of the letter that he received yesterday until right now. It was from Hermione and it asked him to meet her by the lake, after lunch... today.  
  
Draco strolled out of the main hall, his shoes crunching upon the icy snow. All the color magical emanations from Hogwarts had ceased, restoring its pristine, untouched look.  
  
It was a quiet, overcast day with black clouds visible in the distance, an ominous warning that a snowstorm of no small proportion was on its way. Despite Draco being ten minutes earlier than the arranged time, Hermione was already waiting for him.  
  
Hermione's hair blew gently in a slight breeze, stirring like the leaves upon a branch. Her soft, pensive expression was squinted against the cold of the lake, as if peering across hoping to spot someone. Malfoy made it a point to soften his step and sneak up on her. It was amazing how able he was to pull his weight and glide over the snow soundlessly.  
  
Upon closing within ten feet, he smirked and spoke louder than he needed to.  
  
"I trust you have a good reason for insisting I speak to you out here... Malfoy's are a tropical people, you know."  
  
Hermione nearly fell into the lake with surprise as she spun around, her face flustering red.  
  
"Must you always sneak up on people?"  
  
Draco smirked as he thinned his lips with amusement. "I would have sounded a cavalry charge, but I left my horn in my other knickers."  
  
Hermione could not help but smile. "I suppose you are wondering why I invited you out here alone..."  
  
"Nope," said Draco offhandedly, as he stretched both his arms above his head slyly. "No need... you want what I have and desire me in the worst way. Yes, I get that a lot."  
  
Hermione met Draco's pious modesty with a curled lip. "You really do think you are the Earth's greatest gift, don't you?  
  
"Yeah, what can I say?" said Draco airily. "Life took out a loan to come up with enough man to make this Malfoy."  
  
"You could try shutting up for a change and letting me talk," offered Hermione.  
  
Draco arched his brow. "Pity, I was just getting myself started."  
  
Hermione sighed and let a short silence lapse between them. Draco could not help but notice how, when the sun hit her face straight on, it brought out a wonderful sparkle within her brown eyes that made her seem so alive. It was indeed quite a turn-on... for he was used to seeing girls like Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrude and Pansy Parkinson...  
  
Ugh, thought Draco. Just pictured them all together at once... I feel violated.  
  
"Malfoy... I wanted to talk to you about what happened on Ben Nevis..." said Hermione, sounding a bit awkward and strained but otherwise keeping to her bossy, straightforward tone.  
  
Draco clicked his tongue. "Ah yes... the part where Voldemort made the assumption I fancied you... when I was not up to seeing you fall four- thousand feet and liquefying into the ground below."  
  
Hermione blinked slightly, looking a bit miffed that Draco was so quick to pick up on where she was going. "Yeah... I suppose..."  
  
There was nothing accidental in Draco's motion as he took another step closer to her, halving the distance between them.  
  
"How's the simulacrum coming?" asked Draco.  
  
Hermione sighed and shook her head. "No, Malfoy... don't change the subject."  
  
Draco raised his upper lip in feigned disdain. "I think Weasley's resurrection is a more important subject than my own personal feelings... mmm?"  
  
"Yes," said Hermione quickly. "But there is nothing to talk about there... Ron will be back; I know it. Harry and Professor Dumbledore will have it finished by tomorrow."  
  
Draco slipped his own pale hands into the folds of his robe. "That's good to hear."  
  
"I really want to know... do you?" asked Hermione pryingly, with a bit of red flush to her cheeks.  
  
Oh this is rich, thought Draco, puckering up his face as if he had just bit down on a lemon.  
  
"Do I fancy you?" snapped Draco, shaking his head and turning around. "Can you be any more pathetic?"  
  
Without another word, Draco turned around and began a brisk walk back to the school.  
  
"What!" snapped Hermione as she began to follow him, "it's a simple question, isn't it?"  
  
Draco spun around, glaring at her. "What about you, Mudblood... do you fancy me? Would you be in trouble if we were trapped in a room together with alcohol and a hot tub?"  
  
"No," said Hermione quickly... a bit too quickly. "I did not want to lead you on."  
  
A loud snort echoed off the wall of the school. "Right, that is why you invited me out for a private little chat by the lake, when we practically have the whole school to ourselves."  
  
Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat, the sign of weakness that Malfoy needed to pounce.  
  
"It does not even matter," said Draco, with a chuckle. "I know who you like anyway... you think I did not see that kiss you and Weasley exchanged before summoning your Patronus?"  
  
This rocked Hermione back on her heels. "You saw that?"  
  
"Look, you are a Mudblood and he is a Muggle-lover," said Draco factually. "It doesn't work out better than that."  
  
It seemed that the constant use of the word "Mudblood" had made Hermione soft to it, for she lowered her eyes, not looking upset about the word. She ran her hand down her own face, as if fatigued. "I suppose it doesn't."  
  
And then, Draco acted on his impulse, doing something that appeared to catch Hermione completely off guard. He took her hand as it slide down her chin and kissed the back of her palm.  
  
Without another word, Draco walked away and rounded a corner. It was clear to him, before he was out of earshot, that Hermione had not even moved.  
  
Damn, I am still so suave it should be illegal...  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Oh, excuuuuse me," said Harry, smiling good-naturedly. "I didn't know you were the end all guru of information when it came to women."  
  
Both Harry and Sean were alone in the Great Hall, dining on a leisurely breakfast the next day. They were both so eager that they had stayed up all night talking... well, with admission, Harry did all the talking while Sean wrote down simple messages upon the parchment Hermione had enchanted to always erase itself after the person he was talking to read his line.  
  
Sean shook his head, a smile crossing his own face. He quickly scratched a message in front of him and pushed it over to Harry.  
  
I know enough...  
  
"Hey," said Harry, "just because you snogged my best friend doesn't make you clairvoyant."  
  
Sean smirked again, dipped his quill into the bottle of ink, and scratched out a quick message.  
  
No, but you forget, I know what people mean when they speak.  
  
This had Harry conceding the point. "You ... really think Lavender Brown has it in for me?"  
  
Sean nodded.  
  
Harry took a bite out of his smoked ham. "And what gives you that impression?"  
  
The small red-haired boy scratched out his reply, taking a lengthy amount of time.  
  
She licks her lips when she begins a sentence with you, and when she ends one she subtly shifts her weight from one foot to the other, without fail. She does not do that when she speaks to anyone else.  
  
Harry scoffed with disbelief as he read, pointing his finger at Sean's parchment as it erased itself after he finished reading.  
  
"You are good..."  
  
Sean nodded, and briefly made a gesticulation with his hands. During the last few nights, when Neville had gone to sleep and Harry and Sean had the entire common room to themselves, Sean had been able to teach Harry a few basic words, which served to make it easier for them to communicate...  
  
... that, and of course, all the swear words Sean knew how to say with his hands.  
  
Thank you, signed Sean, which Harry understood.  
  
"So when are you heading back to the Colonies?" asked Harry.  
  
Sean quickly made a scratch upon the paper in front of him. Tonight... I insisted upon sticking around for Ron's recovery.  
  
Harry sighed, but nodded. "Stinks you are going..."  
  
Sean shrugged uncaringly, but his face betrayed another emotion as he stared at his plate, with a slouched body language. Harry was keen enough to pick up on it.  
  
"Alex seemed to be more tolerable when the lost his Narhassa powers and was doped up on Memory Charms," said Harry with a weak tone, "Perhaps he isn't such a pillock after all."  
  
Sean continued staring at his plate. There was another question that Harry wanted to ask Sean, a question that had been prying him feebly from the inside of his brain, perhaps that was Ron's way of saying that he was interested as well.  
  
"Sean, can I ask you who Cody was?" asked Harry, sounding a bit coy. "If it's too personal, it is alright... but I heard you calling his name out... when the dementors were on us."  
  
Sean waved his hand and shook his head. He calmly took up his parchment and quill and began to write.  
  
Cody was my little brother.  
  
Harry winced slightly. "Was?"  
  
Sean nodded, visibly swallowing a lump in his throat as he continued writing.  
  
I was sick one day, so Cody took the bus to school alone... they crashed on the way to school.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Sean," said Harry, who had suddenly lost interest in his smoked ham.  
  
Sean shrugged and wrote a bit more, taking about a minute to finish.  
  
The bus flipped over on a muddy road, Cody had gotten out, realized his best friend was still trapped within. His leg was caught. Cody went back in to save him. The bus slipped off the rest of the road and rolled several times. He didn't live through it.  
  
Harry sighed and sat back in his chair. While he had never had a brother of blood, he could empathize with Sean on the point... for a short time, he knew what it was like to loose a brother.  
  
"I see fearlessness runs in your family, Sean."  
  
Sean looked up from his parchment and blushed slightly, offering Harry a weak smile.  
  
Thank you, he signed.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Later that day, Hermione, Sean and Harry met in Dumbledore's office. The work upon the clone was complete and it did not look very shabby at all. It was a perfect replica of Harry, dressed in Hogwarts robes. Only one detail set the simulacrum apart, but it was indeed distinguishing (which Hermione still continued to count her blessing for)  
  
The clone was missing the scar upon its forehead, for unnatural markings did not seem to be replicated upon the body.  
  
Seth Redetyor calmly watched from a corner of the room, leaning casually against the wall. Harry could not help but feel ill at ease by his presence, though Dumbledore assured him that he did not remember a single thing about Narhassa, or his enmity with Harry.  
  
The simulacrum stood upright, its head lowered and its eyes closed. It was pale in color; it was nothing more than a simple shell.  
  
"Good, good," said Dumbledore as he calmly inspected the clone over one last time. "Everything is prepared... Seth, can you hand me the Sorolith please?"  
  
Harry's eyes were momentarily drawn to the Tom Marvolo Riddle look- alike, who nodded and withdrew the Sorolith from his robes.  
  
"Sure, Albus," he replied calmly and handed to orb to the Headmaster. "Hope this works... it is truly an amazing piece of magic."  
  
Dumbledore quickly hummed in consideration.  
  
"Alright Harry, now... take hold of the Sorolith." Dumbledore extended the metallic ball, but did not release it.  
  
Harry nodded and complied, putting his hand over Dumbledore's, sandwiching the orb between them.  
  
"Now, Harry..." began Dumbledore. "This will be difficult... you must think of nothing. While there is no risk involved, Ron will need you to be totally complacent and blissful in order to escape your mind and into the Sorolith... from there, we will guide him into the simulacrum.  
  
"If you have a hard time," added Seth calmly, "focus on rotating your head around... it will make it difficult to put your brain to work on another task."  
  
Everyone looked to Seth, for it was still so alien for him to seem genuine, if not even compassionate.  
  
"Err... thanks," said Harry, trailing off with unease as he decided to take Redetyor's advice.  
  
It was surprisingly easy, following Seth's tip, to clear his mind of any rational thought as he focused on moving his head around. There was nothing going on within his brain, a simple, quiet emptiness that was, no doubt, exactly what Ron needed to escape his head.  
  
Calmly, Harry and Dumbledore both aimed the indentation within the Sorolith at Harry's clone. Without any delay, a blast of red light shot forth, colliding with the body forcefully and toppling it over without a reaction...  
  
... at least for a moment.  
  
"Uhhh..." groaned Harry's clone upon the ground as it's light green eyes opened. "That... was... wicked!"  
  
Harry's smile was so bright that he was afraid he would blind anyone who looked at him. Hermione laughed happily, grabbing Ron's new body up and covering him with a massive hug.  
  
"Oh, thank god!" she cried, burying his head into his shoulder.  
  
"Can't see..." muttered Ron, in Harry's own voice.  
  
While Harry was simply overjoyed that his best friend was back, he knew this would be something he would need A LOT of time getting used to. Without a second thought, Harry removed his glasses and handed them to Ron.  
  
Ron accepted them and put them over his eyes, blinking for a moment. Harry grabbed him in a huge hug, causing his best friend to grunt.  
  
"How do you feel?" asked Harry as he released his best friend, only to grab him by the shoulders again. It felt as though he were looking into a mirror, even though his vision was a bit blurred.  
  
Ron stared at Harry, his expression a bit hard to discern through the blur.  
  
"Short," was all Ron said.  
  
Harry never felt happier in his entire life.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Epilogue  
  
The next week was most interesting, as students returned for two more weeks of study, before Christmas Holiday.  
  
Gryffindor smoked Slytherin in the final Quiddich Match of the season, after Draco made the slight blunder of chasing after Ron... who was in fact not Harry, and was not going for the Snitch, but rather the Quaffle.  
  
Very few-blamed Draco for this oversight, as it was more than common. Fred and George had made the joke that, since Harry was all but adopted as the 7th Weasley brother, the Burrow had "another pair of Weasley twins on their hands."  
  
But no one loved it more than Ron and Harry, who, after the first few days, realized it was not so awkward. To Harry, no matter how briefly he looked at Ron, he never saw himself. He saw Ron... for that was who he was. To set himself a part, (and prevent Hermione from having to always lift either Ron or Harry's low-riding bangs to discern who she was speaking too) Ron chose to wear golden glasses, which differentiated him from Harry upon closer examination easily.  
  
Communication with Sean was a feat that Harry could only praise Hedwig for. Despite having to fly halfway across the world and back, she would always make the trip within a few days and back, with Sean's reply. Harry deduced that Owls must be able to Apparate, which would explain his warning from the Ministry within twelve seconds, after the Dobby incident. Sean would often brazenly boast that he had just got in from surfing in the seventy-degree weather that Southern California was known to have during the thick of winter.  
  
Draco Malfoy had begrudgingly accepted Hermione's invitation to stay with her during the Holidays, for everyone seemed to know that Malfoy was on his own now. While Harry had to hold Ron down from drowning Draco in the lake upon first hearing the news, he was finally able to accept the fact that Hermione was not interested in Draco... now that Ron was back.  
  
Once this became perfectly clear, Ron did the most "un-Ronly" thing Harry had ever seen him do... he did not hammer Draco into the wall when he came by and, after about five minutes of trying to spit it out, thanked Hermione for the invitation.  
  
Eventually, however, everything settled down into an easy routine. School resumed as normal. In Hogwarts, strange things were happening constantly... it was not as though having two Harry Potters in the same class was the most far-fetched experience to have ever been witnessed beneath the roof of the old school.  
  
And, with Voldemort still somewhere in the world, planning... Harry was certain that it would not be the last.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Thanks for reading everyone. I hope you liked the story as much as I liked writing it.  
  
I shall leave you with another Alternate Scene I wrote a few nights ago, when I saw how much people seemed to like the Draco/Voldemort scene. Thanks again for reading!  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Chapter 16: ALTERNATE SCENE  
  
(This is the result of an absolutely shameful bout of insomnia at about 4 AM on a Saturday Night. If it disgusts you, I will understand. This is a remix of the scene where Voldemort shows, through Harry's Dream, Seth's meeting in the dark hallways of Hogwarts.)  
  
Watch, Potter, Watch...  
  
Harry stared silently as a scene began to unfold in front of him, from out of the thickness of his dream. He knew he was dreaming, yet at the same time, it all felt so real. It was like he was standing in the hallway.  
  
Seth Redetyor appeared in sight, his black robe swishing in the darkness of the empty hallway at Hogwarts. It was clear he had the pace of a man on a mission.  
  
At the same time, Bradley Trahvis appeared at the other end of the corridor, walking briskly toward Seth, with intension in his eyes.  
  
Both boys stood looked at each other for a long moment, before Redetyor finally spoke.  
  
"So, what's up, B?"  
  
Bradley shrugged. "Not much... sneakin around, waitin on you."  
  
Seth nodded, speaking in a smooth tone. "True... True..."  
  
Harry was distracted for a moment as Neville removed Harry's Invisibility Cloak, suddenly appearing in the hallway.  
  
"WASSSAAAHHHHHP?"  
  
Seth looked at Neville, sticking out his tongue with enthusiasm. "WAZZZAAAHHHPPP!"  
  
"Hey," said Seth. "Pull that torch."  
  
Neville complied quickly, as suddenly, Alex Guardings appeared in a puff of smoke, having been teleported in like he were using some kind of port key.  
  
"WHAAZZAAAHHH!" cried Alex.  
  
"WHAAZZAAAHHH!" bellowed Seth.  
  
"WHAZZAAHHHP!" added Bradley.  
  
"AHHHHPPPP!" finished Neville.  
  
Harry blinked for a moment, curiously aroused by this seemingly random, yet very enthusiastic exchange.  
  
Must be a Narhassa thing...  
  
"Hey, where's Jesse?" asked Alex.  
  
Seth turned behind him. "Hey Jess!"  
  
Suddenly, Jessica jumped out from behind Neville, startling him slightly.  
  
"WHAZZZAAAPP!" she giggled.  
  
"WHAZZAA..." began Seth.  
  
"AHHHH!" finished Bradley.  
  
"OOOHHH," cried Alex.  
  
"AAHHH," exclaimed Neville.  
  
Harry thinned his brows. This will be tough to explain to Ron and Hermione in the morning.  
  
Before Harry could finish that thought, however, his scar erupted with blinding pain as he clutched it in the darkness. He fell to his knees, nearly swooning and awakening.  
  
Wazzaaahhhhh... hissed Voldemort loudly, in an otherwise jolly tone.  
  
"WAZZAAHH!" cried all the kids at once.  
  
"AHHH!"  
  
"GAHHH!"  
  
"OOOOOOH"  
  
"WOOOOO!"  
  
And, just like that, Alex disappeared into the torch again, Neville threw on his invisibility cloak, and Jessica faded away into the shadowy corridor.  
  
Seth nodded to Bradley.  
  
"So, what's up B?"  
  
Bradley shrugged. "Nothin much... sneaking around, waitin on you."  
  
Seth affirmed strongly. "True... True..."  
  
With that, Seth and Bradley parted ways, leaving Harry with much more questions than answers... 


End file.
